Strike Back
by LorettyLauren93
Summary: Sequel to Bad Company. Abigail Colt was taken in by John Winchester after the death of her family at the age of 14. This story follows Dean and Sam Winchester and Abigail as they overcome challenges set by demons, monsters, and a premature baby in the aftermath of tragic events. Dean/OC-Abigail. Rated M. See first chapter for more info.
1. Author's Notes

**Author's Note—Strike Back**

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><p>Welcome to the sequel of my previous story, Bad Company! If you are new to the series then I suggest that you need to backtrack it to Bad Company and read it, otherwise you'll be swan diving into a story already in progress and full of spoilers! It's a real good read, and it'll take a few days—depending on your reading speed! Plus, it'll clue you in on who Abigail is and how she had come to be a part of the Winchester and Sons Company, so that's always a good thing.<p>

Essentially, this is how I perceive Supernatural. In general, I follow the series and I write Abigail in as we go. I don't change the plots too much, just enough to seem realistic and believable for Abigail's storyline that I am creating. In all, I hope that everyone enjoys her as much as I enjoy writing her!

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><p>This is the story of Abigail Colt. She comes from an extensive lineage of demon hunters, and a descendant of Samuel Colt. Abigail was born with supernatural perception along with the ability to sense them proving her parents an important asset to their hunts. At the age of fourteen, her family was brutally murdered after a demon couldn't possess her, leaving her father mortally wounded in which, he tells her to call their closest friend; John Winchester. As Abigail's father's last wish, John takes her in.<p>

As any good-natured romance story (I'm a big sucker for them), Abigail and Dean end up developing feelings for each other after a long bout of having a love/hate, brother/sister relationship where they were together one week and the next, they were at each other's throats. After solidifying this relationship, they eventually gain John's blessing.

After John's disappearance in Season 1, the crew gets back together after Abigail and Dean fetch Sam from college and journey across the country to find their father. They've endured several mishaps and have fallen into several crevasses along the way. Sam faced the loss of his girlfriend, Jess, in a tragic fire—much like the one that had killed his and Dean's mother many years ago. Dean and Abigail's relationship have been tried due to a surprise pregnancy, the search for John, and the revelation of what John will think of their unborn child.

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><p>Strike Back takes place in Season 2 of Supernatural. Sam, Dean, John, and Abigail are being air lifted to the nearest hospital being struck by a possessed truck driver in the Impala. They're all injured—some more than others. Each one of them don't know how bad the other got hurt, or if they even made it out alive. Their whole world is turned upside down.<p>

I am a huge review lover. I can't get enough of them—especially if they're nice! I love knowing how I'm doing with this story! I'm always open for new ideas pertaining to the storyline, or if they want to see something put in there, I'm always up for a challenge!

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer<strong>_: I do not own Supernatural or any of the storyline. Any changes to the storyline and addition of characters (Kara, Charlie, Gavin, Abigail, etc.), are mine. Ideas that go towards the changes of the storyline will go to the respected person that helps (_Ladysunshine6_).

_**Note**_: This story (and any future ones) will be rated M for language and smut, as well as some- and I am stressing some- situations that will involve attempted suicide and drug use. (There may or may not have them. It's just a precaution.) So, please, as an attempt at forewarning, don't read it if you aren't into it. Thanks! (:

Reviews are welcome, but ya'll don't have to review this chapter. It's just the Author's Notes. haha.


	2. In My Time of Dying (Part One)

_I can't breathe, need you here with me_  
><em>Close my eyes I can feel you close<em>  
><em>(Why did you have to go?)<em>

_I'd give up my eyes to see you one last time_  
><em>And I'd give all my fingertips to touch you<em>  
><em>And I could paint you picture perfect even if I were blinded<em>  
><em>But you have to die for me to see how to live<em>

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><p><strong><em>Abigail's Point of View<em>**

I woke up in a daze. I wasn't hurting, nor was I sore in any shape or form. It was damn near perfect to be honest. I hadn't felt this good in so long, it was almost a shame that I couldn't enjoy it with Sam or Dean. Except…where were they?

"_Abigail_!" I heard Sam call out from somewhere, "Abigail, stay awake!"

"Sir, please calm down!"

"No! Abigail!" Sam called out.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, feeling a warm sensation overcome my senses until a voice pulled me back in, "Significant passenger side intrusion. Unresponsive and going into preterm labor. BP is 180 over 60, heart rate 95, 95. The fetus' heart rate is unknown, but noted to be in severe distress."

"Tell me if they're okay!" Sam called out, frantic as the sound of a helicopter whirring and the clamoring of a frenzy of people running about. I was jolted with a burst of cool air, the brightness of a light was dimmed greatly. I stared up lazily, watching a series of lights pass me by in a slow, even rhythm. I closed my eyes, growing drowsy; the last thing I heard was someone shouting, "We're losing her!"

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><p><strong><em>Dean's Point of View<em>**

_Jesus, what the hell happened? _That was the first thought that had crossed my mind. I scrunched my face in pain, allowing me to realize what had happened. The Colt…the demon that was possessing Dad…what the bastard had done to Abigail and I. Then after that, it was foggy. I couldn't remember much. I know I heard CCR playing on the radio in the Impala, Dad chewing Sam's ass for not killing him.

I had to check on them to see if they were alright. I tried to move my arms and legs, and felt nothing but restraint. I frowned, scrunching my face again as another surge of pain forced my eyes to open. I was at the hospital. Lights blurred past me and I lifted my head.

"We need an OR, stat!" A voice called out, feeling a pair of hands place gentle pressure on my shoulder.

"Sir, please remain calm, you've lost a lot of blood." A male's voice instructed me, and I looked up at him, confused.

I grimaced in pain, "I'm fine, thanks. Where's my family? My girlfriend's pregnant, I need to know about her!"

"Sir, you need to lay down." Another voice said, I looked over to see a relatively good-looking blonde say to me.

"Abigail!" I called out hoarsely. I laid my head back with a grunt of pain, "Sammy! Dad!"

"We're gonna have to sedate him!" The first guy called out.

I glared at him, "Like hell!" I bit out, struggling against whatever had me held down, "Where's my family?!" I looked around me wildly, searching for any sign of Abigail and my son, or Sam, or Dad. Fear crawled up my spine until I had gone near frantic. I passed by a bloodied girl on a gurney. She was so bloody that recognition was almost impossible, and she appeared to be pregnant; doctors and nurses had surrounded her like buzzards on a carcass. I swallowed, eyes growing wide with fear and denial. That couldn't be Abigail.

"Abigail!" I called out, looking around for someone of familiarity, then saw two guys in white approaching me; one of them holding a syringe. I glared at them, struggling against my bonds, "Oh no you don't!" I hissed when the needle broke the skin. It wasn't a minute after that, I was out.

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><p><strong><em>Abigail's Point of View<em>**

**_Hospital—Day_**

In a room, I sat up working my jaw oddly and rolled out of bed. I jumped slightly at the feeling of a rather refreshing breeze, noticing that what I was wearing, was a hospital gown. Instantly, I grabbed the back of it so that my bare ass wouldn't hang out and scar poor Sam, if he were to show up unannounced. I smirked at myself, he was pretty good at that kind of thing.

Where they were, was a good question. I frowned, _'Did they get hurt bad?'_

I didn't hesitate about the fact that my bare ass was hanging out, I needed answers. "Dean?" I called out, half expecting him to come out of nowhere to scoop me up in his arms, "Sammy?!" I called out, growing panicked when Dean didn't answer. "Dad? Anybody?" I called out, searching the hallway for signs of my family. It was unnervingly calm, not a person in the hallway until I descended a set of stairs to the front of the hospital and found a nurse's station. I smiled at her, relieved.

"Excuse me, ma'am. _Hi_." I said, running a hand through very tangled hair battling mixed emotion at the moment, "I, uh, I think I was in a car accident, my dad and my brothers, I just need to find them." The nurse didn't blink my way, nor did she respond causing me to frown. "Hello?" I asked, quite taken aback that she had responded to me. Taking my left hand, I snapped it in front of her face.

Nothing.

I felt a surge of panic rise into my throat and sprinted through the hospital, trying to grab everyone I came to's attention; briefly stopping at a hallway mirror to see a gash on my forehead that descended from my hairline.

"_Help!_" I spun around to hear Dean's voice ring out down a hallway, "_Hey! Anyone hear me_?" My chest heaved with quick breaths, waiting for something else to pull me towards the voice. "_Son of a bitch_!"

"Dean?" I breathed out, unsure I was hearing things. Around the third, frantic, '_Hey!_' I was sure I wasn't hearing things. "_Dean!_" I practically screamed out, running to the direction where I heard his voice. It wasn't far, because by the time I had found him, the both of us collided into each other with pained grunts. We jumped back, surprised that we had come into solid contact with something other than the wall or tables.

Like two deer caught in headlights, we stared at each other for a long second. "Hey, you." I breathed out, examining Dean. He had a gash similar to mine descending his forehead, a few scratches, and a busted lip. Those gorgeous eyes of his were wide in disbelief before stepping forward and wrapped his arms around me tightly. One of Dean's hands clutched the back of my head, entwining his fingers in my hair while the other had wound itself on my hip, and we stayed in each other's arms for a while.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, stepping back to take a look at me. His expression was pained, self-loathing.

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear as I nodded, "Scared shitless, but I'm fine." Dean furrowed his brows in a disbelieving manner, "What about you?" I asked, touching his face gingerly.

"Same," Dean looked around us, "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." I admitted, "Last thing I remember is the demon…and the pain, and…and that was the last thing I remember."

"We'll figure this out, Abs." he stated, "Have you heard anything from Sammy or Dad?"

I shook my head, "No. I don't know a thing, Dean. Tried talkin' to the receptionist downstairs and it's like I'm invisible."

"Same thing with me. One minute I'm trying to find you guys and the next…doctors, nurses—" Dean shook his head, "Won't bat an eye to even look at me…all that matters is you and the baby are fine. We need to find out about Sam and Dad." I nodded in agreement.

"This is like some freaky dream, like, _Donnie Darko_ or somethin'." I muttered, running my hand gingerly through my hair. Dean looked over at me with weirded-out expression. I smiled sheepishly, "Minus the freaky rabbit."

"Whatever is going on, we need to find Dad. He'll know what to do." He said with a firm nod, "Maybe this has got something to do with the demon." We hadn't walked more than a couple of feet when he grimaced in pain, gripping his chest like something painful was happening to him. I froze feeling shocked; unsure of what was going on with him.

"Dean?" I asked, witnessing something like a light flickering, Dean's image flickered while red began to spread out along his white shirt, soaking the front in the matter of seconds. He looked down at himself, flabbergasted, before he looked at me in the eyes and crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. I gasped, rushing forward to collect him in my arms, "Dean! Hey, stay with me, a'ight?" His eyes rolled in the back of his head, causing me look around wildly, "Hey!" I yelled out, "I need some help!"

I looked down at him, legit scared out of my mind, "Dean, don't you leave me." I said, seeing his flutter, and I clenched my jaw, "Don't you leave me." I murmured, running my fingertips down the side of his battered face. Bowing my head against his, I silently prayed for some kind of help. I prayed so hard, I was half-expecting something to happen, but to see a dim light suddenly appear from under my hand and then grow brighter after each passing second, I knew this had to be some fucked up dream. It had gotten so bright, I blacked out.

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><p>I sat up, breathing hard and fast from everything. It had happened so fast. I had no idea what happened, or where Dean was for the matter. I looked around, realizing that I was lying on the cold, hospital ground. I wasted no time getting to my feet, because I knew I had to get answers somehow, and for me to do that, I needed to get back to my room. This was just too freaky for my taste.<p>

Taking off down the hallway, rounding several corners and wound up at the receptionist's desk once again, flailing my hands unceremoniously at the oblivious woman. After a few crude gestures and a few choice words per say, I ran up a flight of stairs, finally returning to my room. Stepping through the doorway, I froze. My eyes widened in horror upon seeing my body on the bed, intubated and there was _no _signs of a swollen stomach. I blinked back tears, looking down at myself.

_There was no swollen stomach on me. _

I looked up, fully taking in the condition of my body, I saw that I had been hurt badly. From what I could see, my whole left side was a massive, black bruise and swollen. My face was black and blue, my left eye was swollen shut. It was covered in cuts and the same long, gnarly gash descended from my hairline. "Oh god." I whimpered out, covering my mouth with a shaking hand, "Oh, god…"

_This couldn't be happening._ I was damn near unrecognizable!

I heard a set of hurried footsteps and turned seeing Sam enter the room, only to stop at the door and stare at my body, breathing heavily. "Sammy!" I said, frantic over the absence of my swollen stomach, "You gotta tell me what happened to Cody—what happened to Dean!" I scrubbed my face, "Bub, you have to tell me if they're okay, if Dad's okay!"

His brows were pulled into a look of despair, "Oh, no." He breathed out, scrunching his face as if he were warring with himself on emotions. He glanced over his shoulder, almost afraid. Of what?

"_Sam_! Where is she?!" I heard Dean's weary voice call out. I sagged my head backwards, closing my eyes in relief.

_He was alright._ I thought, hearing his heavy footsteps close behind. _How long was I out?_ I managed to ask myself when his footsteps faltered behind his brother. I gaped at him, shocked. Dean looked awful. He was pale, like he had lost a lot of blood. His face had been sporting cuts and scrapes, along with a few stitches on his forehead. If there could've been a time that I not only felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest, but stomped on—this was definitely one of those times.

The look on Dean's battered face was of utter denial and pain. He looked to Sam, shaking his head. "That-that's not…" His brows furrowed in a disbelieving manner, "That's not Abs. You've got the wrong room, man."

Sam swallowed, eyes gleaming with tears, "Dean," He said lightly, "That _is_ her."

He shook his head again at him, determined to not believe Sam. "Look at her, Sam! She's not pregnant!"

I waved my hands in front of their faces, scared. "Guys, tell me you can hear me." I watched Dean's face crumple in a mix of emotions as he and Sam slowly entered my room, approaching my comatose body. Sam shook his head, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. "Dean." I called out, "I was just talkin' to you! Tell me you can see me!" No response from him. I closed my eyes for a moment, battling my own pent-up emotions.

"Do you think she's gonna to be okay?" I heard Sam ask Dean. I opened my eyes shortly after, looking over to him.

Dean hesitated, eyes never leaving my swollen face, and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, she's okay." He replied, sure that I was fine. However, his jaw clenched as he repeated, _"She's gonna be okay",_ as if he needed to tell that to himself in reassurance.

I furrowed my brows, glancing to my body then to Dean, "How's dad? Is he okay?" I asked him, "What happened to Cody?" I reached out to grab his arm, only to go through him. That only pissed me off. With narrowed eyes, I looked to either boy, "What happened to Cody?!" I said with a firm tone.

I whirled around to Sam, crossing over to him, "Come on, you're my Psychic Twin." I pleaded waving my hand in front of his grimacing face, "Give me some ghost whisperin' or somethin', damn you!"

Someone walked in, causing the three of us to whirl around. It was the doctor, "Your father's awake. You two can go see him in you'd like."

I let my head fall back, "Thank God. One of a million questions have been answered." I looked to the doctor, "Where's my baby? What's happened to him? Is he okay?"

Dean nodded, thoughts elsewhere, "Doc, what about my girlfriend?"

"Well, she sustained serious injuries: blood loss, contusions to her liver and kidney, and a punctured lung. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema." I looked at the doctor, shocked as he looked to my body. This was surreal.

Sam didn't take his eyes off me, well, my body as well. "Well, what can we do?"

He sighed, "Well, we won't know her full condition until she wakes up." He hesitated before adding: "_If_ she wakes up."

Dean and Sam looked to him, shocked, "_If_?"

"_Oh_, screw you, Doc!" I hissed out, "I'm waking up!" I looked over to the two distraught men in the room, hoping they heard me.

"I have to be honest," The doctor began to explain, "Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. She's fighting very hard." Dean's head bowed, a small knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But you two need to have realistic expectations." He lifted his head, eyes widening like he had been slapped.

I shook my head. I was beyond frustrated, past the point of being frantic, and bordering the fence to Looney-ville. My hands ran through my hair, "Just tell me about my baby." I pleaded.

Dean motioned towards the absence of my baby bump, "And our kid, _explain_ that."

The doctor nodded, leafing through a couple of papers, "We had to do an emergency cesarean in hopes to save the baby. She's in the NICU as we speak…" He looked down at his charts, "Sir, mind you, she was born thirteen weeks early and suffered great trauma from the accident. The way things are looking." The doctor inhaled, thinking, "An infant born at twenty-seven weeks has a ninety percent chance of survival…but it depends on the gestational period, the maturity of the internal organs, and outside elements—"

"The way things are looking, however…with the trauma caused from the passenger side collision, it's just a matter of time." He concluded in a somber tone. It didn't sit well with me. Judging the shattered looks from Sam and Dean, it wasn't sitting well with them either. I covered my mouth with my hands, tears falling.

Dean's chest heaved deeply, spotting a chair near my bed and sat, threading his hands through his hair. What Sam didn't notice, but I did, was that his hands were trembling. Dean looked up at him, torn.

"_She?"_ he asked him softly.

The doctor looked at them surprised, "Yes. Didn't they tell you the sex at her fifteen week check-up?" Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"We-we wanted it to be a surprise." Dean admitted, looking over to me.

"And we started thinking it was a boy." Sam added lightly.

Dean swallowed, drawing his brows together, "Are you saying, that not only does my girlfriend die…but my _daughter_ is going to die as well?"

The doctor's lips pulled into a tight line, "We can't be for sure. It'll be a miracle if she does. I'm sorry." Dean closed his eyes with a pained look washing over his face, "As the parent," the doctor begun to explain to Dean, "You and the mother have 24 hour visitation in the NICU. You may can call anytime, but you will have to give the band number over the phone. It will be provided to you shortly." Dean nodded to the doctor, taking in the information. He swallowed, glancing to my body drawing his lips in a tight, thin line.

After the doctor left, I sat on the edge of my bed, gazing up to the boys numbly. "Guys, come on." I said, "Sam. Dean. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me." Tears fell onto my lap, staring at each one, desperate for some form of connection.

Sam turned to avoid Dean seeing the tears in his eyes and walked out of the room. I got up, looking to Dean; who watched as he left. "Sam?" I glanced from the door to Dean, who had hung his head, "Aren't you gonna go with him?"

That was until a soft, strained gasp sounded from Dean. Alone, the sound of the heart monitor and breathing machine humming, Dean was letting it sink in of what had happened a few hours prior. I watched, stricken with grief, as Dean sat, crying. Slow, painful seconds ticked by as I watched the man, whom I loved with my heart and soul, cry over my body at the very thought of myself and our daughter dying. The deafening silence that had fallen around him was beginning to make it clear that he was going to be alone.

Moments later, he stood up wiping his face with his hands and casted a pained glance over to my body. "Fight this. You gotta, Abs…" He looked up to the ceiling, and pursed his lips as he exhaled, "For Sam." He approached my bed, reaching out to brush away a few tendrils of my hair, "For Dad." Dean leaned over, careful to not touch anything important, "Please stay." He whispered, "For me. For…" He bowed his head, inhaling sharply, "For Megan. We need you. _I_ need you."

With my lip trembling, I nodded. I had been standing a few feet away from him, "I know."

He kissed a spot on my forehead before he straightened up, wiping a lone tear away quickly and walked out of the door to catch up to Sam.

Standing in my room alone. I nodded again, fresh tears falling freely, "I know."

I left my room, walking down the halls catching sight of Dean and Sam's figures walking into another room. Jogging, I trailed behind them seeing John lying in a hospital bed, his arm in a sling. The demeanors of both Sam and Dean had changed drastically from being completely shattered, to as if nothing was wrong.

I had done the same out of habit.

He looked up at us, hazel eyes—like Dean's—assessing his sons. Silent for the most part, he awkwardly pulled something out of his wallet, one-handed, handing it to Sam, "Here. Give them my insurance."

Sam took the card his father gave him, peering down at the name and smiled, "Elroy McGillicutty?" Dean and I smirked.

"And his two loving sons, and adopted daughter." John replied with a smirk before it vanished as quickly as it had come, "So, what did the doctor say about Abigail?" An uneasy silence fell in the room. Dean hung his head, not speaking. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at his father appearing lost, "She, uh…she's lost a lot of blood." He replied, uncomfortable, "She apparently has contusions to her liver and kidneys, punctured a lung…" John nodded taking in the severity of my injuries, "and early signs of cerebral edema."

I watched the man I called father's face darken, "The baby?"

Dean kept a stony appearance for John, "Abigail had a girl…they said it's only a matter of time."

Sam's lips pursed, "The doctors won't do anything to help them, then we'll have to, that's all." John and Dean looked at him, "I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on them or something." Standing off to the corner of the room, I gaped.

"Sammy, did you—did you just hear me back there?" I spoke softly, earning a quick glance into my direction from him. I felt my forehead wrinkle in surprise. _He had._

John nodded a little distracted by something, "We'll look for someone."

Dean looked unsure. However, Sam looked determined. Between the both of them, Sam looked more determined to find a solution while Dean looked like he was still reeling over my unconscious body. I frowned. He needed to put his head in the game. "Yeah." Came their replies.

"But, I don't know if we're gonna find anyone." John said quietly, looking from Sam to Dean.

Sam's brow furrowed, "Why not? Abigail and I found that faith healer before." I crossed my arms, nodding. It was definitely worth a shot. Seeing the look in John's eyes, I had grown uneasy. I didn't like it, and I think he knew I wasn't going to make it.

Dean's face hardened. "That was—that was one in a million."

Sam turned to face him, "So what?" He threw his hands up, letting them slap his thighs, "Do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass while Abigail and the baby just die?" He asked, angry.

"No," John said sharply, clearly interrupting something Dean was about to say, "I said we'd look. Alright?" I gazed at Sam and Dean, watching them slowly nod at his words. "I'll check under every stone." There was a beat between his words, before fixating on Dean, "Where's the Colt?"

My mouth dropped in shock…it wasn't really shocking that the old man would instantly revert back into his old, obsessive self again and focusing on his two decade old vendetta against the thing that landed me and my daughter on death's door.

Sam scoffed in disbelief, "Your daughter and granddaughter is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?"

"We're hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us too." John said in his usual dictatorial voice, "That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk." Dean replied for Sam, "They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83."

John nodded, "Alright. You boys gotta clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby." Dean answered, "He's like an hour out, he's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"Alright," John said, "Sam, you go meet up with Bobby. You get that Colt, and you bring it back to me. And you watch out for hospital security." Sam nodded and I sighed. _Typical_.

"I think I've got it covered." Sam replied with a smirk.

"Dean, stay with Abigail and keep an eye on her and the baby. They're your responsibility."

Dean nodded, "Yes, sir."

John motioned to the door, "Go on." Dean and Sam got up to leave the room, "Sam." He called out quickly, stopping them both. They exchanged curious looks before Sam nodded his head to Dean to go ahead. With one last look, Dean left, sulking. I watched intently at the exchange between Sam and John. He picked up a piece of paper, "Here. I made a list of things I need, have Bobby pick them up for me."

"Acacia? Oil of Abramelin?" Sam read aloud, looking up at his father confused, "What's this stuff for?"

"Protection." He said. I inclined my head and snorted at his lie.

"That's a crock of shit and you know it, John Winchester." I said, "You're up to somethin'."

I watched closely as Sam moved toward the door, pausing briefly to look at him, "Hey, Dad?" he asked, "You know, the demon, he said he had plans for me, and children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

John steeled at his question, "No, I don't."

"What about Abigail? And the baby? What did he mean that she was a rare find and that she won't get in the way of those plans?" He asked.

John inhaled sharply, "I wish I knew, Sam. Now, go on and do I what said." Sam stared at him for a moment longer before he left, shutting the door. I stared at John as he leaned back in the bed with a loud sigh.

"Well, you sure know somethin'." I stated.

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><p><strong><em>Sam's Point of View<em>**

**_Junkyard_**

My heart sank upon seeing the twisted and mangled remains of the Impala. It was surreal that we had even survived that. I blew out a quick breath of air, "Oh man, Dean is gonna be pissed. I'm kinda glad he didn't go with me on this one."

Upon seeing the crushed in rear passenger side door, I couldn't help but feel nauseated with dread. No one could survive a hit like that. No one. I forced myself to not think about the worst case scenario right now.

"Look, Sam." Bobby said lightly, "This..." he gestured his hand to the wreckage, "this just ain't worth a tow. I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap."

"No." I said firmly, shaking my head, "Dean would kill me if we did that." I saw the troubled look in Bobby's eyes, "When Abigail and him gets better, the two of them are gonna want to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging." He explained.

I turned to him, "Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on..."

Bobby nodded solemnly, "Okay. You got it."

"Here, uh, Dad asked for you to get this stuff for him." I handed over the list that Dad had made. Judging from the look Bobby made, I shifted.

"What's John want with this?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Protection from the demon?" Bobby scowled at me, "What?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just, uh—"

Aside from fearing the worst with Abigail, another wave hit me and it was pertaining to the list this time. "Bobby? What's going on?" I asked slowly.

Bobby fell silent for a moment, then relented, "This ain't no list to protect yourself from the demon or any demon for the record, boy." It was like ice just seized everything within me, "This is a list to _summon _a demon."

I gaped, "That-that can't be."

Bobby tapped the paper, "The paper doesn't lie, Sam. Now, I'll get the stuff for your daddy, but the rest is up to you to find out."

I ran a hand through my hair, "Trust me, Bobby. I will." This couldn't be happening. Was he seriously as self-centered and as selfish to take on the demon while one of his kids were dying along with his granddaughter? I couldn't hardly think straight. I knew better than to agree to do this.

I popped the trunk, quickly finding the Colt. I narrowed my eyes at it. This thing is what landed Abigail and her baby in the hospital. Only because I couldn't pull the trigger and do what Dad told me to do. I shoved it into my jacket pocket without another glance, then moved to close the trunk, only to pause, seeing something. It was black and yellow, crumpled up into an unfashionable ball. Leaning in, I picked it up to see that it was the batman baby outfit that Dean had gotten Cody—Megan, now.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at it for a long moment, and I laughed to myself. _So much for having a nephew._ I thought to myself with a sad smile.

"Dean get that?" Bobby asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. He bought it a couple of months ago, back when we were on a job."

"Dean would have to like seeing that." Bobby said, "Maybe it'll get him out of the dumps for the time bein'."

I nodded, "Yeah. It'd have to do something for him." Carefully, I folded the small outfit in my hands and picked up the little beanie with ears on it, the set of mittens and socks with the symbol for batman on it. It'd have to do something.

Bobby placed his hand on my shoulder, "Abigail is gonna pull through, Sam. She's been around you lot for too long. If Megan is anything like her parents, I know for a fact she'll pull through." He patted my shoulder once, "I'll go find you that stuff, and I'll hook the car up and be on my way."

I nodded, "Thanks Bobby."

"Anytime."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Abigail's Point of View<em>**

**_Abigail's Room_**

Dean and John had gone up to the NICU to see Dean and I's child for the first time. I stayed behind, feeling like I didn't deserve to see my child. I had failed her. Like a statue, I stayed in my room, waiting for someone to come up with some kind of cure for this coma. Sam had had been gone now for over an hour, when a set of footsteps alerted me. I twisted around at the edge of my bed and saw a nurse wheel John into my room. Thirty minutes crawled by. In that time frame, John had done nothing, and I mean _nothing_ to find someone to heal me, to even call Charlie and Kara to let them know I was even dying and that I had given birth!

I was so far past upset, I had swan dived straight into unthinkable and unrelenting bitching. I paced back and forth in my room behind him, "C'mon, Dad. You've gotta help me!" I ran my hands through my hair, "I've gotta get better! I can't leave them alone! I-I can't leave Dean, Sam, and my daughter by themselves, they need me!" I spun on my heel to pace, "I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried!" Tears welled up in my eyes, "Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you even going to say anything?"

I rounded behind the chair till I was in front of him, so I fell to my knees, staring up at the man that had saved me so many years ago, "I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given… everything I've ever had." I said, "And you're just going to sit there and you're going to watch me die? After all that you and my father have been through…after all I've done for you and the boys." I shook my head, narrowing my eyes as rage flourished in my chest, "I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?"

Just as I was about to rip into John again, he took a breath. It was sharp, quick. I closed my mouth, leaning down to inspect him, curious. John leaned back in his chair, smiling inwardly to himself.

"What's so funny?" I asked him, knowing that he wasn't going to hear me.

"When you came into this family, I wasn't sure that I was able to keep my word for Steven." He admitted, and I faltered, quickly falling silent. "Times where hard, and it was hard enough feeding two growing boys. To raise you?" John shook his head with a smirk, "Girls are a different story, but there you were. You were strong…you had to be. Steven taught you well." It was a rare sight to see John open up like this. Very rare.

"Sam latched onto you the minute he knew you were staying with us. And Dean…he thought different, acted different. Like he had to show you up on everything you two did together, like it was some kind of competition." I couldn't speak. John took a deep breath and exhaled, "Twelve years, Abigail. Twelve years." He murmured, gazing to the heart monitors and machines that had been hooked up to me. "Looking at Dean and Sam…I still see Dean, four years old and I still see Sam when he was six months old. It's unreal that they've grown up."

"I turn around for a second and look back, and Dean's a father…Sam went to college…and then, I see you with them…they look to you for guidance, like you're their anchor—their support….you were able to provide them something that had been missing in their lives for so long, they didn't even realize they had it." John pressed his lips together in a line, looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap, "The way Dean looks at you, Abby…" His shoulders rose when he took a deep breath, "The way he looks at Megan in that incubator…I can relate to how he's feeling right now…he looks at the both of you like how I still see Mary."

"Dad…" I said brokenly, seeing his fractured gaze.

"The boys need you. Your daughter needs you, and I refuse to let the son of a bitch take you away from her, like he done Mary." His voice hardened, "Abigail, if you can hear me, so help me, I will find a way to bring you back. You need to fight harder."

"I am." I told him, "I swear to you, John, I am."

"You were never a Colt." He said to my body, "Not all the time. You're a Winchester, so you need to fight like one."

I nodded, firmly, "Always." A noise from outside caught my attention, and I glanced back at John. I stood up, gripping the back of my gown and paused, "What is that?" I asked aloud, then rolled my eyes. "No one's gonna hear you stupid. You're pretty well dead."

Walking out into the hallway, a green spirit whooshed past me. Startled, I jumped back, looking back to John, "I take it you didn't see that!" I groaned, shaking my head, "Hell of a day to be half-dead…" Following the spirit down the hallway, taking corners, I stopped. In front of me lay a woman on the floor, choking.

"Help! Help!" She called out. Around her were files and papers scattered.

I looked around wildly, "Hey! I need some help in here!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs.

"I can't... breathe!" She gasped out, trying desperately to breathe, before going silent. I leaned over her feeling totally helpless.

"I'm sorry." I whispered out, "I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>

**_Abigail's Room_**

I sat beside Abigail's form, my hand in hers. Quietly, I brushed the pad of my thumb across her bruised knuckles.

"Abs, you should see her." I told her softly, "Looks just like you." My lips stretched into a small smile, "She's gotta lot of fight in her…just like you." The plastic bracelet I had around my wrist to the NICU was uncomfortable. I used my free hand to tug at it, looking down at it sadly. "You won't believe how small Megan is, Abs. She's a pound and a half…nine inches from her head to her butt. Sam's seen her…even Dad. They can tell ya."

I laughed lightly, stroking Abigail's knuckles, waiting for a response. The clicking of the life support machine and heart monitor provided my only response from her. "And she has _so_ much hair, Abs. You'd be so proud of her…I know I am." Tears pricked in my eyes. Taking the back of my hand, I swiped at my eyes, "God, Abs. I wish you'd wake up so this chick-flick moment can end…" I studied her face, swallowing down a hard lump in my throat, "Sam brought that Batman outfit I got when we thought Megan was a Cody." I forced myself to laugh, "I say we slap a tutu on that mother and call it cherry."

There was still no response. Abigail was still in the same shape…cuts, bruised, the gash...and her face. It was so pale, like her lips. I had to look away, back down to her hand. There wasn't anything in this world I wanted more than to hear her laugh. "Say something, Abs." I whispered. "Call me an ass. Tell me that I'm just some idiot in tinfoil…yell, cuss, _anything_. Just…_say_ something."

I balled my hand into a fist, "Damn it, Abigail!" I yelled out, standing up. I turned my back to her, the steady beeping of the monitors sounding, "You can't do this to me! You can't just up and quit!" My hands slapped against my jeans, and I turned, "You promised me you wouldn't leave me." I shook my head at her form, "You _can't_. You can't just give up…not while our daughter is fighting with you. I need my girls with me."

An alarm suddenly started blaring. My chest clenched and I looked up to the monitors, searching for the cause, seeing that the heart monitor was flashing. The feeling of dread overcame me and I looked over at Abigail, shaking. "No." I said, moving to her, "No, no, no."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Abigail's Point of View<em>**

**_John's Room_**

I felt ragged. Tired. When the nurse had come to take John back to his room, I followed him back. As far as I knew, Dean was still up in NICU with our daughter. She couldn't have been more than almost a day old, and I knew she already had him wrapped around her finger. Despite the tightness I felt in my chest, my saddened smile faded quickly when Sam stalked into John's room with his duffel bag in tow. I stood up, meeting him at the door.

"Sammy! Tell me you can friggin' hear me!" I said quickly, glancing around, "There's somethin' in the hospital. A-a reaper or somethin' that goes bump in the night. Doesn't matter." I said shaking my head to stop my rambling, "Now, you've got to bring me back, get Dean's head in the game, and we've got to hunt this thing." I gaped when Sam paced, turning his back to John, narrowing his eyes at me or at least, in my direction, "Sam!" I snapped. I watched his eyes drift from the floor upwards and inched closer to him.

"You're quiet." John said, and the bitchface had returned to Sam's face.

Sam turned, obviously fuming, and hurled the bag onto the bed with a loud thump, "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

John stared at him calmly, "What are you talking about?" I rolled my eyes at him.

_Of course you know, John._ I thought to myself ruefully.

"That stuff from Bobby, you don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one." I looked between Sam and John, clearly shocked. Where was Dean when you needed him? "You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?!"

"I have a plan, Sam." John said, still very calm.

"That's exactly my point!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Abigail and Megan are dying, and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own daughter and granddaughter!"

I groaned, rubbing my chest gingerly at the dull ache, "No, no, no, guys, don't do this!" I looked to the door, worried. "Where's Dean? He should be walkin' in right now to stop this!"

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John snapped, "I'm doing this for them!"

"How? How is revenge going to help them?" Sam challenged, "You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it's the same selfish obsession!"

"Come on guys, don't do this!" I begged, looking to each of them, upset. My hand stayed over my heart…it literally felt like it was breaking or falling to pieces by the minute. This was new.

"You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too!" Sarcasm was practically dripping off his words, "This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"

Sam's face had turned beet red from anger, "It was possessing you, Dad, I would have killed you too."

"Yeah, and both Dean and Abigail wouldn't be in the shape they're in!" John spat out. His eyes were flashing with malevolence, like he was getting ready to get up out of the bed and get into a fist fight with Sam. I got in between the two of them, extending my arms, ignoring the pain.

"Shut up, both of you!" I yelled.

Sam's face twisted with vehemence, "Go to hell."

"I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong —" John started in with the accusations and highlighting our wrong doings. I had enough of it.

"I said _shut up!_" I screamed, smacking a glass of water off the table, sending it to the floor with a crash. After it shattered, Sam and John fell silent, confused. I stared at the table, then flickered over to the broken glass and water on the floor with a stunned look. "I full-on Swayze'd that mother. Dean would be proud." After a beat, pain slammed into me. It wasn't anything like before. It wasn't dull or aching. It was like someone was stabbing me in the chest. I crumpled, seeing my hand in front of me flicker, just like Dean had done earlier.

Nurses and doctors started running by John's room in the hallway. I straightened up, clutching my chest. "This can't be good." I mused with clenched teeth..

"_Sam! Dad_!" Dean's frantic voice called out.

John looked to Sam, concerned, "Something's going on out there."

Sam and I ran to my room, seeing Dean standing outside with his hands grasping his hair. The nurses and doctors had kicked him out of my room, hearing the shrill squeal of the defibrillator and a loud thump. Trailing close behind Sam in the hallway, I was forced to lean against the wall, clutching my chest in pain.

Sam stopped beside Dean, looking in at the scene, horrified. "Abs, no." He whispered.

I whimpered out slightly, looking down at my hand, but saw nothing. Slowly, I came to stand behind them, peering between the gap to see doctors and nurses flocking around me. I couldn't be dying. I just _couldn't_ be! "No." I said firmly, "I'll be damned."

The doctor nodded, "Okay, let's go again, 360." He placed the two pads together and placed them on my bare chest.

"Charging." She told him. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing that this was some fucked up nightmare. "All clear!" The nurse unhooked the AMBU bag away from my breathing tube.

"Clear!" Said the nurse as the shrill squeal of the defibrillator began charging and my body arched up. I fell to my knees from trying to catch myself on Dean and Sam, only to watch brokenly as Dean ran hands through his hair once again, tears in his eyes, looking to the monitor to see a single arch, then back to a flat line. Sam stood beside him, crying and fidgeting from being so distraught. There was so many emotions running through me, it had become almost unbearable.

"Come on, come on," muttered my doctor_, _determined_. _

"Still no pulse." The nursed hooked the AMBU bag back and started squeezing—forcing oxygen into my lungs. It was the most uncomfortable feeling I had ever felt.

"All clear!" the doctor said. Between Dean and Sam, I felt distressed and lost and hopeless. I felt so empty and scared.

"Clear!" shouted the nurse as everyone stepped away from me. Another painful jolt surged through my body and I yelped out, watching as my body rose up even higher than the last couple of times. Dean ran his hands through his hair, slowly stepping away from the doorframe and watched helplessly while they tried to revive me. Everything was just so painful and terrifying.

"Nothing." said the nurse.

"Okay, let's go again." said the doctor.

"Clear." said the nurse, as my doctor shocked me once again. Nothing.

"Come on, Abs," I heard Dean whisper out, "Please, don't. Not you." I swallowed hard, glancing to Sam, and saw him watch everything. Tears flowed freely down his face, staining his cheeks. It wasn't a second when I looked back to my body, I saw a ghastly green figure hovering over it. I glared at it, getting to my feet quickly.

"You get the hell away from me!" I snarled out, running to the bed and got up in the creature's face, "I said get back!" When it wouldn't budge, I grabbed it since I had no other form of weapon. I wasn't leaving this place without a fight, but grabbing the thing…that was probably a no-no. As soon as I did, I was slung backwards across the room.

"No change, starting CPR," announced her doctor, handing the paddles to the nurse by the crash cart, beginning chest compressions.

"Still nothing." said the nurse, and at that moment, the heart monitors had slowed down into a steady rhythm.

"We have a pulse." The head nurse in my room announced after checking my throat for a pulse, "We're back into sinus rhythm."

I got up, mind totally on going after whatever had me, and ran into the hallway searching for the damned thing. Needless to say, I had come up empty handed. I heard a relived sigh and the sound of a pair of feet shuffling back. I turned to see that Dean was to his feet, patting Sam on the shoulder in a consoling manner; their faces paled with fear and worry, only Dean's was expertly masked.

"Told you she'd fight." I heard Dean tell Sam in reassurance, though in a shaky voice. I smiled sadly, standing by the two of them.

"You guys don't gotta worry, Sammy." I told him, glancing to look at Dean, "I'm not going anywhere." I watched the nurses and doctors disperse for a moment, "I'm getting' that thing before it gets me. I need you to listen to me, carefully, Sam." I sighed, "I don't even know if you can hear me or not—you make it believable for me, Sammy. Do me a favor and get Dean's head in the game. He's all sappy and lookin' like he's lost his dog. I ain't gone yet, and neither is Megan. We're here and we're fightin' the good fight, no matter how long it takes." I looked around for another sign of ghastly image I saw, "This thing—It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it." I reached out, knowing that neither man was going to feel me, but I placed my hands awkwardly onto each of their shoulders, "And if I can grab it, I can kill it. I'll be back. I promise."

I stayed beside them until the room was clear and both of them had the okay to come inside. The both of them flocked inside like two mother hens, though, Sam and I hung back watching Dean with tears in our eyes. He leaned over my body pressing his lips to my temple, whispering, "You ever scare me like that again, I'll kick your ass when you wake up."

I snorted in amusement, folding my arms across my chest, "Well, Winchester, you better pack a lunch and bring some friends on that one."

Sam jumped like he had been startled, and turned his eyes squarely on me. I grinned, _knowing_ for a fact now that he had heard me, "That's right, Sammy-boy. I'm right here. I'm not some figment of your imagination." I grinned wider when I saw his eyes widen further, "Grab a Ouija board and I'll talk to you more. I gotta find somethin', but I'll be back."

I took another look at Dean before I went to go find whatever that thing was. I saw him leaning over my body with his forehead pressed to mine while his thumb was petting the side of my head.

_Don't worry, babe_. I thought, resting my hand on the door frame, _I'll come back to you_. _'sides, I ain't your average bear, Boo Boo_. I turned to the opposite direction when I heard someone crying out.

"Can't you hear me?" said a female voice, "Why won't you look at me?"

"Oh now what?" I exclaimed. I did _not_ have time for shit like this. I needed to find that thing and kill it before it came back. After a moment of thought, I couldn't help but ask myself that maybe…just _maybe_ this girl might know what's going on. Maybe she knew how I can get back into my body.

I walked into the middle of the hospital corridor, and saw a young girl, around my age with short dark hair and fair skin going up the stairs.

"Somebody talk to me!" she cried out, trying to get someone's attention. "Say something, please!" she screamed out of desperation.

I felt sympathetic for her. I knew where she was coming from. "Can you see me?" I shouted to her. She spun around.

"Yes." she said in total shock and relief that I could see her. I saw her face, and something was just making my stomach feel nauseous.

I had to stay calm, for both of our sakes. "A'ight, just, uh, calm down. What's your name?" I asked her.

"Tessa" she replied taking a step down, unsure if this was real.

I nodded, "Okay, good. Tessa, I'm Abigail."

She climbed down the stairs, "What's happening to me?" She said with worry, "Am I dead?"

My shoulders lifted in a half-assed shrug, "That sort of depends." I said honestly.

* * *

><p>We were standing and staring into a hospital room; Tessa's. She was lying in a bed hooked up to machines similar to mine. There was an older lady sitting by her bedside holding her hand. I felt her pain, hoping that Tessa would wake up. It was the same look Dean had after my heart stopped. Now I have to watch this girl's life hang in the balance with mine as well.<p>

"I don't understand. I just came in for a simple appendectomy." Tessa said in confusion, but calm like.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think there were some complications." I said bluntly.

She looked over at me with knitted brows, "It's just a dream, that's all," she said in denial, "It's just a very weird, unbelievably vivid dream."

I felt bad for the girl, but I had to tell her the truth, "Tessa. It's not a dream."

"Then what else could it be?" She asked.

"You ever heard of an out of body experience?" I asked her.

Tessa looked at me with disbelief, "What are you, some new age-y girl?"

I snorted, "You see me messin' with crystals or listening to Yanni?" I asked her, in a serious tone. "It's actually a very old idea." I added, "Got a lot of different names: Bilocation, crisis apparition, fetches...I think it is happenin' to us. And if it is, it means that we're spirits of people close to death." I felt my heart racing at the thought of me dying.

"So we're going to die?" Tessa asked me with worry.

"No," I said firmly, "Not if we hold on. Our bodies can get better, we can snap right back in there and wake up." I had to see Megan. I wondered if she knew that I loved her dearly. I had to go see her, to be able to hold her and watch her grow up. I worked my jaw oddly for a second, then gestured her to follow me. "Come on, I have to check on somethin', but we will find a way to get back. I promise." I turned to head to the NICU with Tessa right beside me.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sam's Point of View<em>**

**_John's Room_**

"What do you mean, you _felt _something?" Dean stated, sounding incredulous or disbelieving.

I shrugged, looking up at him and over to Dad, "I mean it felt like, like _Abigail_. Like she was there, just out of eyeshot or something." I shook my head. "And—and, I could've _sworn_ I heard her voice." Dean's eyes widened slightly, "I couldn't really understand what it was exactly she was saying, but it was reassuring." I looked from Dean's shocked face to Dad's stern gaze, "I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what, it... But do you think it's even possible? I mean, do you think her spirit could be around?"

Dean's eyes went to our Dad for guidance. I suppose he was hoping to hold onto something that was plausible. Something that meant bringing Abigail back and having Megan in stable condition. Dad nodded, "Anything's possible."

I nodded in affirmation. That was all I needed to know, "Well, there's one way to find out."

Dad and Dean exchanged a glance, "Where are you going?" Dean asked.

I waved him off, "I gotta pick something up. I'll be back."

Dean shrugged his jacket on, "I'm going with you."

I nodded, seeing Dad look at me, I knew he had something to say. I looked over to Dean, "Ah. Head on out, I'll be right behind you."

Dean furrowed his brows at me confused. He still didn't know of Dad's intentions to summon the demon. Relenting, he nodded, and walked out of the room.

"Sam. I promise I won't hunt this demon." He told me, glancing every so often to the door, "Not until we know Abigail and the baby's okay."

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders when he said that. It was believable. After what had just happened to Abigail, we couldn't take another hit like that on Megan's end. It would be too much for Dean. Walking out of the room, I already knew that Dean was in Abigail's room. It was one of three places I _knew_ he'd be at. The other two would've been Dad's room and the NICU. Stepping out of the room, Dean stared at me for a long moment.

"You didn't tell Dad everything." He deadpanned. I opened my mouth to say otherwise, but instead, I simply nodded. Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, looking me over with a scrutinizing look. "I'm gonna level with you, Sam." My brother said, running a hand across his face wearily, "I'm tired—too tired to even function—so, if you're just saying that you _thought_ you heard Abigail, then don't—"

"I did." I said firmly, "As clear as day, but it was off. Like, talking into a bottle or something. Look, man. You don't have to believe me, I get it."

Dean held up his hands defensively, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said I didn't believe you, Sam."

"Abigail is here, just…not _here_ here." I explained, "She usually doesn't shut up when she's around."

The corner of Dean's mouth started to twitch either with condescension or amusement, "Well, then, what're you waiting for? We have something to get."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Abigail's Point of View<em>**

I was walking in the hallway with Tessa on my way to the NICU to see Megan. I was worried about the boys and my daughter, and when I look at Tessa, she seems so calm and reserved. That was a little unsettling, even for me.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed." I complimented her, trying to find out more about this girl.

"With what?" She simply asked me.

I arched my brow at her, "With you." I answered. "Most people in your spot would be Jell-O right now, but uh," I gestured to her with my hand, "You're takin' this pretty well." Her eyes widened a smidge. "Maybe a little better than me." I laughed softly, shaking my head at myself, "Here I am worried about my premature baby girl, my boyfriend, his brother, and their father…what they're gonna do about this situation. But you…?" I trailed off, frowning.

"Don't get me wrong. I was pretty freaked out at first." She said openly, "But now, I don't know." Her shoulders lifted up, "Maybe I'm dealing."

I tilted my head at her statement. Maybe that was the case. Other people react differently to things. So, maybe this was one of them. However, continuing my time with Tessa, I couldn't help but feel something odd about this girl. It was a nagging feeling—one I often got on jobs or when I roamed old folks home or even during short stints in the hospital. It was a just something that I _could not_ place my finger on it.

_Why can't I tell if she is something supernatural?_ Maybe I couldn't see evil in this life. This was an entirely different world than what I was used to. I took a moment to wonder if that thing was after me, then felt an icy chill of fear shimmy its way up my spine. _What if it's after Megan too?_ Anger bubbled in my stomach at that though. I'd be damned if I let that happen.

I inhaled sharply, "So you're okay with dealin'?" I asked, shoving those dark thoughts out of my head, even if it was for a second.

Tessa shook her head, "No, of course not." She replied, "I just think, whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen. It's out of my control, its fate."

_Fate_, I thought, _what the hell kind of fate let's my heart stop in front of two guys I care about more than anything in this world suffer through that? What kind of fate would let a baby be born this early?_

"Well that's crap. You always have a choice. You can either roll over and die, or you can keep fightin', no matter what—" I stated, only to be interrupted by the PA system.

"_Room 237, code blue. Dr. Kripke to room 237, code blue_."

My eyes widened. That wasn't good. I had to see what was happening. I started to run where the doctors and nurses were going.

"Where are you going?" asked Tessa from behind me.

"Just wait here." I ordered, before running to the room where the doctors and nurses were going into. I saw them surrounding the body of a little girl trying to resuscitate her. My heart clenched painfully as I watched one performing chest compressions while a nurse was behind the headboard using an AMBU bag. I saw the ghostly figure hovering her body—the same one that was over mine earlier today. I clenched my jaw and fists. I couldn't let that thing take a child away. As long as I was still alive—half-alive, anyways, I won't let it.

"Get away from her!" I shouted to it as I lunged forward the same way I did before when it was near me. I saw it reach its hand out to her face and I saw some movement come out of her. Then it vanished just like that. The machines were blaring throughout the room, declaring that she was gone.

"Okay, let's call it." Said one of the doctors.

I could not believe that they gave up on a little girl. She barely got to live her life. To go to college like Sam did, fall in love and have a child like Dean and I have gone through. This girl was never going to grow old, and do so much. My heart was breaking at the thought, and I had become overwhelmed by this loss of life. I guess being a new mom kind of changes perspective on things.

"Time of death, 5:11 pm" Said another doctor.

I heard a young nurse say to them, "At least she's not suffering anymore."

_Oh my God_, I realized, _That was a, uh, reaper_. A reaper was after me. I need to tell the boys. I walked outside of the room, and headed towards mine. I saw Tessa, and I walked right passed her.

"Where are you going now?" she asked.

"Not now" I said in a hurry. As I came up to my room, I saw that I was alone with the sound of the machines clicking. I was taken aback at my own body.

_My God_, I thought, _I look even paler than before._ My eyes caught something glinting in the light, and fully looked, seeing something by my hand. I saw Dean's silver ring on my ring finger. Approaching my body, I felt tears forming in my eyes and a lump growing in my throat. I guess Dean wanted to make sure that he was here even if he wasn't. I seriously loved that man.

Sitting down, I began to stew in my thoughts. Between meeting Tessa, watching that little girl die, and the realization that a reaper was after me; it just seemed like my world was crashing down. With Tessa…she was too well-adjusted to _this_. It felt like I had been in a coma for a while now, and I was _still _freaking out. It was just a constant mindfuck to be honest. Dean and Sam were both MIA at the second, and from what I hear, John had been up to the NICU again to check on Megan.

From Dean and Sam, I hear that she's fighting just as hard for a baby, but the news wasn't good. Apparently it was a miracle all on it's own for her to have survived this long for a preemie. There was a lot of things that Dean wasn't mentioning. I saw it in his eyes and I _felt_ how heartbroken he was…how, empty and lost he was.

Everyone was.

Tensions were high, tempers were flaring. I snapped out of my analysis on the current events due to the door to my hospital room opening. It was Sam and Dean. Sam was clutching a brown paper bag, looking around the room. I remained sitting in the blue recliner, seeing Dean's annoyed look.

"Dude, how do you even know if she's in here?" He said in a low voice.

Sam glanced at him, "I don't." He took out a box labeled, _Mystical Talking Board,_ and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me." Dean said sarcastically, "That's what you had to get?"

Sam shot him a dirty look, "It'll work…I think." Dean threw his hands up slightly, and Sam sunk to the floor in front of my bed, pulling out the board, "Abigail? You here?" he asked. I slipped onto the floor in front of him.

"God, I feel like I'm at a slumber party." Dean grumbled, leaning against the wall nearby, crossing his arms. Sam and I sent him a withering look, and placed my fingers lightly on top of his, sliding the pointer to 'Yes'. Sam gasped, looking up to Dean, who looked alarmed, "Did you do that?" he asked.

"No." Sam said quickly, licking his lips and smiled, "Uh, Abigail…it's good to know that it's you." I arched my brow at him, "For sure knowing it's you." Dean and him exchanged a glance, "It hasn't been the same without you, Abby."

Dean was quiet, "Damn straight." He murmured. I directed the slider from the H and quickly spelled out 'HEY YOU'. Dean make a soft noise in the back of his throat, something like a scoff or a laugh. His eyes rose up to the ceiling for a brief moment.

Sam furrowed his brows, "Hey, you?" He looked over to Dean, "What's that-?" Then he mouthed, 'oh'. Dean nodded, hanging his head and nodded loosely.

"Hey, you." He said in a softer tone. I smiled at him, beginning to spell out 'BABY'.

"B-A-B—Baby?" Sam asked, as Dean straightened up upon that, furrowing his brows, "Megan?"

I nodded, pulling the slider to 'Yes' once again.

"She's doing fine." Dean said, "She's a fighter." I smiled softly, knowing Dean was keeping close tabs on the both of us, and spelling out 'TALK'.

"Sammy, I know you can hear me." Sam glanced to Dean almost uncomfortably, "Don't mind him. Talk to me. I'm here."

Sam nodded, "I can hear you, Abigail. But just barely."

I practically fell backwards with relief, "Thank God. Totally not into this _Lassie_ thing lemme tell ya." Sam laughed, earning a spooked look from Dean.

"Sam, what are you doing?" He asked slowly.

"Talking to Abigail." Sam replied.

Dean glanced to the board, "No, you're talking to the wall."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Tell him he needs to stop being a princess."

"Stop being a princess." Sam said simply. Dean furrowed his brows at him.

"What?" Sam shifted his eyes to where he presumed I was at. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I don't have much time to talk, I'm huntin'." I said, and Sam furrowed his brows.

"Hunting?" Sam asked, eyes flickering over to Dean, worried.

"What do mean, hunting?" Dean asked, "We're in the hospital."

I was quiet for a moment, "Can't get any clearer on that one, Einstein." Sam furrowed his brows.

"Abigail, what are you hunting?" Sam asked. I could feel how tense the both of them where. I got up due to how wound up I was getting, "Do-do you know what it is?"

"I don't know." I stated, "A Reaper probably."

Sam looked confused suddenly. His eyes widened, searching. "Abigail? Abs, you still there?"

I smacked my forehead, "Great. Lost service." Dean's eyes widened as well. I went back to the Oujia board and sat down in front of it, pushing the slider to I-D-K. Dean nudged Sam's leg with his foot, nodding towards the board. Sam shifted in front of the board. The both of them were intent on the slider.

"She's still here." Sam said, offering Dean some kind of reassurance. Their eyes followed the slider, and they looked at each other confused.

"I-D-K?" Dean said slowly, "I don't know? How don't you know, Abs?" I rolled my eyes at him, sliding the slider to spell out R-E-A-P, and I watched the color drain from their faces.

They were silent for a moment. "Sammy, I don't know how your reception is right now, but I don't think it's killin' people..." I fell silent myself for a beat, "I think it's takin' them. You know, when their time is just up."

"A reaper." Dean said, "Are you sure?"

I pushed the slider to 'Yes', watching the muscle in his jaw tick when he clenched his teeth.

"Abigail," Sam said slowly, "Is it after you?"

Feeling their apprehension come in waves, it only multiplied mine. When dread slammed into me, I knew that was coming from Dean, and it was heartbreaking. Sam stared down at the Ouija board, expectantly.

"Abs…" He said softly, "Is it after you?"

I blew out a pensive sigh, pushing the slider to 'Yes', and their head bowed for a moment. They were clearly upset at the end result.

"If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it." Sam concluded, gazing up to Dean, who stared intently down at the board. The right side of his face was sunk in just a hair, like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Judging by the narrow eyed expression, he looked like he was about blow a gasket.

We all knew what that meant if a reaper was on my tail. You can't kill Death, you just can't.

"Abs, you're, um—" Sam said.

I nodded, "I'm screwed, boys..."

Right then, Dean jumped to his feet causing the both of us to jump at the sudden movement. His eyes were flashing with the usual stubbornness of a Winchester and sting of denial, "No." He said firmly, "No, no, no. There's gotta be another way." Sam and I watched him with solemn resoluteness as he began to pace, running his fingers through his hair, "Abs, you can't just give up. Not like this! Not when our daughter is up there in the same condition."

I squeezed my eyes shut upon feeling the painful waves of every feeling that rolled off of Dean. He was so persistent that was going to pull through this, like I was just fine and going to wake up any second. The reaper wouldn't be here if I was going to get better. I pulled the slider out of Sam's hands, seeing them both look at it as I spelled out 'PROMISED', and looked up at Dean. His face was written in denial, and narrowed his eyes at the board when I moved the slider to 'Goodbye'.

"Sam, you go talk to Dad. He'll know what to do." He ordered, not looking to the empty space where he assumed I was at, "I'm gonna keep an eye on Megan. Let me know something." Dean was about to leave the room until my assigned doctor walked in looking down at the charts in his hand, rather grim. I frowned, fear creeping its way up my spine. My breathing became faster, and my palms got sweatier. It wasn't just my fear, it was from both Dean and Sam.

"Hey Doc," said Dean, so hopeful, "is Abigail getting better?"

My doctor just looked at the boys' faces that were full of hope about my condition, and I was just as curious, if not just as scared. The grim look on his visage didn't make me feel any better. "Boys, we need to talk."

"What about?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean, worried.

"Why don't you have a seat?" said my doctor gesturing Sam to the empty chair next to Dean's.

"I prefer to stand, thanks" Sam said firmly as his jaw tightened.

I furrowed my brows a little at his body language, "Just calm down, Sam" I said to Sam, reassuringly. I just hoped he heard me.

"We ran some more tests after her, uh..._episode_ yesterday. And now we just got those tests back," I could sense that he was going to finish a sentence Dean and Sam will refuse to believe. "The edema in her brain has increased. The fluid that had been on her brain increased, causing her to have a stroke, which lead up to her cardiac arrest."

That was a hard pill to swallow. I suddenly found it hard to stand and sat at the end of my bed. Numbly, I stared up at the doctor. _I can't believe it._ I thought, _I had a stroke._

I looked to Sam and Dean and I felt the dread that overflowed them. I could just feel Dean's heart breaking. I could sense that he was being strong for Sam, but was unable to hide it from me. He could never hide much of anything—even when we were younger and at each other's throats. It was also one of the things I admired about him. He refused to let Sam see how tormented and depressed he was. Instead, he always pulled himself together and kept a level head.

It was something that came naturally to anyone that was the eldest sibling.

There was a dead silence for a beat, seeing Dean's eyes slowly narrow at the doctor, "So, what are you trying to tell us?" asked Dean. My doctor looked at him with sad eyes.

"Well, either you can either keep her on the machines that are keeping her alive and this will happen again," he began, "or you boys and your father could say your goodbyes and we can take away the pain that she is in."

"So damned if you do and damned if you don't." I muttered, seeing saw Dean's face harden as he gripped my hand.

"Are you telling me that you are giving me the option to pull the plug on my girlfriend?" Dean's voice rumbled in his chest.

From under his gaze, the doctor shifted uncomfortably, glancing to Sam, bewildered, "Mr. McGillicutty..." the doctor tried to calm Dean down, but he wasn't having it.

Dean got out of his chair in a huff and charged at the doctor, eyes flashing dangerously. "No, you do not give me that crap. You are a _doctor_ for Christ's sake! You're _supposed_ to heal people and give their families have some kind of hope! _Not_ the complete opposite! Did you forget that she has a daughter; that _we_ have a daughter?!"

I glanced between the two men, growing anxious at how angry he was becoming. And as a result, I was feeling it, "_Dean…_"

"We were lucky that we got her back from that episode," The doctor explained to him, "The next time this happens she might not be that lucky." Dean's jaw worked oddly as he spoke, "If she ever wakes up, there could be some permanent brain damage. She might not even remember you, your brother, or your daughter."

I felt this nasty pit in my stomach. _I might not remember my daughter_. I covered my mouth from letting the cry escape me. _As if anyone could hear me_. My entire body was trembling combining the thoughts of not watching my daughter grow up, kissing Dean's lips again, or being Sam's shoulder to cry on. There was so many unknown things that were happening all around me, and I swear to you that I could feel it crashing down on me.

I felt so helpless. So shitty.

Dean stared at the doctor, "Listen to me, you brought her back to me before, and you will do it again. You are _not_ pulling the plug, and that's final."

"_Dean_, stop it." I said sharply, glancing to Sam to see if he heard me. He didn't.

Dean pointed to the door and growled, "Now get the hell out before you see a side of me that you don't wanna to see." And with that, the doctor left my room.

I stood up, glaring at him even though I knew I shouldn't have, "You didn't have to act like that." I said as he turned and headed toward his chair to sit beside me. Dean grasped my hand as he rubbed my forearm with his free hand.

Sam was heading towards the door to make sure no one was listening or coming in, then looked to his brother, "Don't worry, Dean. I'm gonna go talk to dad, and see what he has to say about reapers." As he turned around to look at Dean, his face saddened. He was gripping my hand as if it were his lifeline. His eyes glittered with unspent tears.

Between him and Sam, I think Sam could sense that Dean was near his breaking point—a thing he had never seen. I watched Sam walk toward him. Coming up behind Dean, he placed his hand on his shoulder and gripped it in reassurance. "We'll get her back, Dean."

Dean's mask instantly came back to cover up the fact he was distraught, "I'm getting my girls back." Dean vowed. He motioned his head to the door, "Go talk to dad. They're _not _pulling the plug on Abs. Not when she's still fighting to get back—don't come back until you've found something."

Sam pressed his lips in a thin line, "Dean…"

"_Now_, Sam." Dean ordered him.

Helpless, I watched as Sam looked at Dean, and he gave him a simple nod.

"Dean!" I snapped, looking around the room to find some way of catching their attention. To let them know I had heard everything, and saw everything. I looked to the door, seeing the grated window. Walking to it, I had let out all of my frustration and pent up emotions that I had felt for the past two days, allowing my fist to collide against the window, therefore, cracking it. They both jumped ten foot, spinning around to see the cracked window with wide eyes.

"I take it she's mad." Dean muttered to Sam, who stared at him, bitchface in full effect. As stubborn as he was, Dean stared at the window, "I'm not giving up on you, Abs. Not yet. So be mad at me all you want."

I threw my hands up and hung my head back. _That was about as useful as man tits._

Sam furrowed his brows, "I'm gonna go check on Megan after I talk to dad, you don't have to go." And like that, Sam left the room to talk to John and check on my little girl. After everything I had heard, I wished I was able to see her, at least once.

I frowned, "Don't think like that, stupid." I said aloud to reassure myself, "You're not dead yet. Sammy's gonna talk to John, and I know Dean's not gonna give up without a fight…_stubborn ass_." I watched as Dean ran his fingers along my forehead, glancing to the machines and watched them force oxygen into me. I hated seeing him like this, and after what the doctor said and what was after me, I have never seen him this lost.

"Don't worry, Abs." He said softly, as he kissed my battered up knuckles, "We are gonna fix this. You're gonna be just fine. Just...live." I felt a sense of longing flare up in the pit of my stomach. His eyes trailed up to the tube that was sticking out of my mouth with a deep frown. Dean stood up, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the saliva that had accumulated at the corner of my mouth. He did this pretty often whenever he would come back from the NICU, and would use his free hand to reach up to my mouth, and stroke the part of my lips that were not taped.

He flexed my hand so my palm was visible, and he placed it on his cheek. I could feel the prickliness of his unshaven cheek in my own hands, and I felt my heart shatter when he gripped my hand tighter, leaning his head against it and broke down. Alone in this room, Dean had let down his walls, allowing himself to dwell and stew in his own misery. It wasn't long that he bottled himself up again, lying his head against his arm on my bed and fell asleep.

I heard my door open and turned, seeing Sam with John's journal. He saw Dean sleeping on the side of my bed. "Abigail," he whispered, "If you're here, Dad wasn't in his room."

I furrowed my brows in confusion, "Where is he, Sam?" I asked him.

"But I have dad's journal," he pulled up the other chair to the other side of my bed and sat down, "so who knows. Maybe there's something in here." Flipping through the pages of John Winchester's hunting journal, I noticed that he would look up at me every now and then. I felt his fear of having my heart stop again. He looked over to Dean, who was snoring away.

I smiled at him. He a good little brother to the both of us, and an amazing uncle. I came up from behind him, watching his dedication to finding an answer. "Thanks for not giving up on me, Sammy." I said. I looked at my still body hooked up to the machines. Then, I looked at the scene in front of me; Dean asleep holding my hand on one side of my bed, and Sam sitting on the other side reading the journal as I was laying in my bed. This scene was so real it struck a chord in my heart. If I wasn't possibly dying, it would have been a perfect Kodak moment.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned over Sam's shoulder and saw that he had found the section that said 'REAPERS'. I wanted to read to get my mind off of some things. As I was reading, every fell into place. "Son of a bitch." I growled, "I knew it." I stormed off to find Tessa.

Coming down the hall to where Tessa's room was, I stopped short, only to find it empty, and Tessa was there alright, but not in her hospital clothes. This time, she was wearing a dark, sleeveless blouse with dark pants sitting on the empty hospital bed.

I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at her, "Appendectomy my ass." I grunted.

She looked at me, "Hello Abigail."

"You know, you read the most interestin' things." I started off, walking towards her slowly. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't." I started to pace in front of her very slowly, like those cops on _Law & Order_ do to the suspects in questioning. "Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, a pretty young girl. You are way too pretty than the last reaper I saw—who, by the way—tried to kill my boyfriend."

She looked at me amused, "I was wondering when you would figure it out."

"You see, I can normally see supernatural bein's—get a feelin' of them, sense them. I should have known." I said, still pacing the floor like a lioness in her cage. "That whole 'accepting fate' rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body? I'm still tryin' to figure that one out."

"It's my sandbox," she explained, "I can make you see whatever I want."

I couldn't believe with what I was hearing, "What, is this like a turn-on for you? What, toying with me?"

"You didn't give me a choice," she started out, "You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kinda hurts a girl's feelings. You should know how that feels." I just stared at her. She did not know my love life, "This is the only way I can get you to talk to me."

_What the hell is she talking about?_ I thought, _talk about what? _"Okay, fine. We're talkin'." I couldn't _wait_ to hear this answer, "What the hell do you want to talk about?"

"How death is nothing to fear." She said standing up and walking towards me and then taking both of my hands in hers, "It's your time to go, Abigail. And you're living on borrowed time already."

I couldn't believe it, she was the one after me. She tried to take me away from the people I love. She might take Megan next. I shook my head slowly at first, then started to back away, "No, I won't let you take me away from my daughter!" I told her, "You can go to hell! And you are not takin' my baby!"

I ran out of the room and toward NICU to my baby. I wasn't going to let that conniving bitch take me away from Dean, Sam, John, and Charlie and Kara. I wanted to see little Gavin take his first steps and maybe showing Megan how to walk. I ran in a huff—screaming—_hoping_ someone could hear me, and then before I knew it, I was thrown on my back to the floor.

"Could you keep the noise down?" said a man, "I can't hear the other screams coming from down the hall."

Bewildered, I looked at this guy who was looking all cocky with his red sucker in his hand. He seemed familiar, and he had _wings_. I furrowed my brows, staring at them.

"Hey, eyes are right here, honey." He said with a snarky smirk on his lips.

Looking him in the eyes, I narrowed mine, "Who the hell are you?" I asked.

He placed his hand on his chest, skewing his face in an offended expression, "And I thought you'd remember me. Tawas Bay, Michigan. Summer of '93. Ring any bells, sweetheart?"

"How'd you know where I tried to drown myself?" and then it hit me, "I remember you now."

He flashed me a grin, "Yup. We have done a lot of things in the past, but this is the worst joke you could pull."

I snorted, "No shit"

"Now, madam." He said as he reached down to help me up, "why in such a hurry to die?"

"I'm in no rush to die, thank you," I corrected him, "I am trying to get to my daughter; to save her."

This man, someone I had _no_ idea who he was, grinned in delight, "Ah, you had a girl, congratulations!" He said, gladly.

I ignored him, "I need to save her. If the reaper is after me, then my daughter might be next."

"I see." he said, contemplating. "So...where do I come in all of this soap opera crap?"

"If you had the power to send me back at the lake, then you certainly have the power to spare the life of my baby."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, popping the sucker in his mouth for a minute, "You know," He said, pulling it out and waved it in my face, "You and Dean should be like on _Days of Our Lives_ or something with the love story you have going on."

"Will you save her?" I shouted, growing agitated.

"Keep your soul in place, honey." he said, "All in due time."

And then like that, he was gone. I turned to run towards the NICU, but then Tessa showed up around the corner, "You can't cheat death, Abigail." she said, "Now...let's talk."

* * *

><p><strong><em>John's Point of View<em>**

**_Boiler Room—Night_**

All bets were off at this point. I made a promise to Steven and Avery that I would protect Abigail, and by God, I was going to keep my word. The boys needed her and her daughter needed her. I wasn't going to allow my granddaughter go through the loss of her mother, like Dean and Sam had gone through.

Pushing the door to the boiler room of the hospital, I entered, closing the door behind me and hefted the duffle bag on my shoulder. Walking through the dimly lit hallway to a clear space, I placed the bag down and unzipped it, pulling out a box of white chalk and started to draw a large symbol on the floor. _If everything goes according to plan, Abigail will be alright._

Upon finishing the symbol, I placed several candles and a black bowl around it, then started to say an incantation. Pulling out a knife, I slid it across my palm and watched as blood welled to the top of my skin. Clenching my fist, I allowed it to fall freely into the bowl, and lit a match, dropping it in. A quick flash of light, I stood up looking around for some sort of sign that the incantation had worked.

A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, "What the hell are you doing down here, buddy?"

I turned around to see that the janitor had caught me red-handed. "I can explain."

"Yeah?" he said, "You're going to explain to security. Come on. You follow me."

I quickly drew the Colt, and cocked it, "Hey. How stupid do you think I am?"

The janitor smirked, those haunting yellow eyes that had tormented me and my family, glowed, "You really want an honest answer to that?" He asked, tauntingly.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed two men in lab coats stalk by and take positions behind me.

"You conjuring me, John. I'm surprised." The demon said, "I took you for a lot of things. But suicidally reckless wasn't one of them."

"I could always shoot you. "

The demon smirked, "You could always miss." He let out a taunting laugh, "And you've only got one try, dontcha? Did you really think you could trap me?"

"Oh, I don't want to trap you." I replied, lowering the gun, "I want to make a deal."

The demon looked at me, intrigued.

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><p><strong>Welcome to <span>Part One<span> of the first chapter of _Strike Back_, the second installment of _Bad Company_! I hope you guys have had a great holiday break and an amazing New Year's! This was _supposed_ to come out New Year's to celebrate it, but between school and my baby nephew making his grand entrance to the world, I have been a little busy, so please forgive me!**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending me some help with writing a few scenes that included Tessa! She has been an absolute angel! We're both excited to finally get here!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

_**Ladysunshine6**_** also started her fanfic back up, _Ain't Easy in the Big Easy_. So, stay tuned for more chapters from her!**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <span><em>Picture Perfect<em> by Escape the Fate.** **(If you haven't listened to the song, do so now! I tear almost every time I hear it!)**

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><p><strong><span>sarahmichellegellarfan1<span>- I'm so glad that you're excited for the new chapter! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it!**

**Jenna West21- I'm a little apprehensive, but I got this! I'm excited to get started on it! There will be a lot of things going on in this installment!**

**angelicedg - I hope you enjoyed it! c:**


	3. In My Time of Dying (Part Two)

_So watch my chest heave_

_As this last breath leaves me_

_I am trying to be_

_What you're dying to see_

_I feel like "Fuck man,_

_Can't take this anymore._

_This heart breaks_

_This is life that's so thankless,_

_How could he just forsake us?_

_Breaks us he makes us_

_Hate us he gave us_

_Nothing but no trust_

_And I am so fucked up_

_So let this gun bond us_

_Let's hide by this lust_

_And once we are just dust_

_He'll know that he loved us_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Empty Room—Night**_

"Look," I began, trying to find a way to buy me some time, "I'm sure you've heard this before, but... you've gotta make an exception, you've gotta cut me a break." I stood near a window, staring out at the street below. The only thing staring back was my own reflection.

Tessa folded her arms, "Stage three: bargaining." She acted like I didn't know what I was doing.

I turned toward her, "I'm serious. My family's in danger." I tried to reason with her, "See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they _need_ me."

"The fight's over." She replied, shaking her head.

I tried my best to fight back the bite of tears, "No, it isn't." I told her in a light voice, shaking my head, "Not for me."

"It is for you." Tessa said to me gently, "Abigail, you're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field." She took a step toward me and I took a step back, "I know of you. I know what happened to your family, and I'm truly sorry about it. I helped them cross over—" I hung my head, squeezing my eyes shut. This wasn't happening, "Your father, your mother, every soldier I've helped—they all feel the same."

Slowly, I gazed up at her through tear soaked lashes, "They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong." She made halfway across the room until she was reaching out to take my hands in hers, "The battle goes on without them."

I stared at her for a long moment, then glanced out the door, "But Dean and Sam…my daughter—they could die without me." I couldn't just _let go_. Not while there was still a war going on—not while the demon was still alive. I promised them I'd come back. I _promised_. They were my new lease at life after my family died. Those two were my responsibility. I felt like I kept them together—anchored them when the going got tough.

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Nothing you can do about it." Tessa replied, watching as I took my hands away from hers and turned my back to her. I covered my mouth, allowing another round of unshed tears to escape. I tensed when she touched my shoulder, "It's an honorable death—a warrior's death."

I scoffed at her, "I think I'll pass on the seventy two virgins, thanks. 'sides, I got all I need here."

"That's funny." Tessa said with a smile.

I blew out a breath to calm myself down, for at least a moment, "There's no such thing as an honorable death." I pointed out to her, "My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die!" I narrowed my eyes at her and shook my head in defiance, "_No._ I'm not going with you, I don't care what you do."

"Well, like you said, there's always a choice." Tessa looked at me with contemplation, "I can't make you come with me, but you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

"What are you sayin'?" I asked.

"Abigail, how do you think angry spirits are born?" She stated, "They can't let go and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt."

* * *

><p><em><strong>John's Point of View<strong>_

_**Boiler Room—Night**_

"It's very unseemly, making deals with devils." The demon said, "How do I know this isn't just another trick?" He asked me.

"It's no trick." I told him firmly, "I will give you the Colt and the bullet, but you've got to help Abigail and her baby. You've got to bring them back."

The demon twisted his meatsuit's face into a sneer, "Why, John, you're a sentimentalist. If only your kids knew how much their daddy loved them."

I glared at him, "It's a good trade. You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do Abigail."

The demon slowly paced, looking me in the eye with a cocky look, "Don't be so sure, Johnny-boy. She and your boy killed some people very special to me." He tilted his head with a smug expression, "You just don't know how much of a liability she is to what I have planned—well, not her exactly. That abomination that she gave birth to—"

"My granddaughter is not an abomination." I bit out, earning a raspy laugh from him.

"But still, you're right, she isn't much of a threat. And neither are your sons." I bowed my head at his words, raising my eyes at him, "You know the truth, right? About Sammy and your precious Abigail? And the other children?"

I nodded slowly, "Yeah. I've known for a while."

"But they—Sam and Abigail—don't, dothey? You've been playing dumb, especially with Sammy."

I clenched my jaw, "Can you bring Abigail and my granddaughter back? Yes or no?"

The demon smirked, "No." His lips twisted into a coy smile, "But I know someone who can—it's not a problem."

"Good." I said, feeling slightly relieved.

"But, you only get to choose _one_." The demon said. I felt my eyes give away the extensive amount of shock that I felt, "Little Abby or Little Megan. Your choice, Johnny." The demon put his hands in his pockets and paced a little bit, before stopping, "You know—if you choose Abigail, Dean and Sammy have their little mommy-figure and everything will be honky-dory. They'll get over the death of their child. Abigail and Dean can just have another kid—there's nothing to it. A few drinks, a little touching—"

"_Shut up_." I growled out.

His grin widened, "If you choose Megan, you and your boys will have another reason to kill me by taking away your little girl. More of a reason for Dean to become the basket case he is, and liable to drink himself into an early death. He's got a lot of issues, you know. Daddy issues."

I glared at him with vehemence. I couldn't bring myself to make a choice—Abigail, the only person that was close enough to be my daughter, or Megan, my only grandchild. I hung my head in despair, I was running out of time and options.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock. Time's a wasting, Johnny-boy." The demon sang out, "If you don't choose, none of them will live. It's a win-win situation for me, John, but it's a win-lose for you."

_Mary, please forgive me_. I thought, "Abigail." I said finally.

"What was that?" He asked me, "I couldn't quite hear you. You gotta speak louder than that, son."

"Save. Abigail." I repeated through clenched teeth, catching the demon's eyes flash with morbid glee, "But, before I give you the gun, I'm going to want to make sure that Abigail's okay." I finished, "With my own eyes.

"Oh, John, I'm offended. Don't you trust me?" The demon chuckled, as I shook my head, "Fine."

"So we have a deal?" I asked, wanting to get back up to the room so that Dean or Sam didn't become suspicious.

"No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot." He told me.

"With what?" I asked.

"There's something else I want, as much as that gun. Maybe more."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Abigail's Room**_

An hour passed by and I found absolutely nothing to help Abigail. The silence in Abigail's room was near deafening, except for Dean's snoring and the machines. Glancing up from Dad's journal, I watched Dean for a second. I didn't really know how long he had been out, but he was going to be pissed that I didn't find anything. I tossed the journal onto the bed, causing Dean to jerk awake, looking over at Abigail's comatose body almost in disbelief. When he realized that she was still in the same shape, he looked over to me and hung his head.

"You find anything?" He asked, swiping a hand down his face roughly to wake himself up. Dean was wore out, I was too.

I sighed, "I couldn't find anything in the book." I said, seeing him frown at me, "I don't know how to help her, Dean."

"Did you talk to Dad?" he asked, tiredly.

"That's the thing, he wasn't in his room." I replied, "But I'll keep trying, alright? As long as she keeps fighting, we may still have a chance..."

Dean nodded, "Yeah…"

"But…" I trailed off, shaking my head. Dean furrowed his brows, resting his arms on the side of the bed.

"But, what?"

"If we can't save her—" I began, trying to be the voice of reason. To remind him that we made a promise to her.

"We _will_, Sam." Dean snapped, "You're acting like she's dying. You heard her! She's fighting to get back in there!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I'm just saying, Dean. What if we _can't_ save her?" I asked him. My brother rolled his eyes at me and got up from his seat, turning his back to me, "You heard what her doctor said. She probably won't even remember us if she wakes up!" I got up from my chair, crossing the room to him, "Dean," I said softly, "We made a promise to Abigail to drop everything and try to save Megan."

Dean looked over his shoulder at me with a dark glare, "_Don't_."

"She wanted us to pull the plug on her!" I argued, "It's what she wanted."

"Sam, I am not in the mood to hear your crap." He growled out, "I'm giving you a fair warning. You need to leave."

I stared at him in disbelief, "No." I spat, "Abigail is as much as my sister as she is yours, and I love her just as much as you do! I have as much say in this than you and Dad put together!"

Dean spun around, grabbing me by my shirt and slammed me up against the wall, "I'm not pulling the plug on her, Sam! She's _my _responsibility!" His eyes were wide and distraught, "I can't give up on her, like you're doing!"

"I'm not giving up on her, Dean!" I said pointedly, "I'm being realistic!"

"So am I!" He yelled at me, "Abigail isn't going to just roll over and die, not when Megan is up there! Not when we're still fighting this demon!"

I was just about to hit my boiling point with him, and shoved him back. "Abigail _is_ dying, Dean! You need to get your head out of the clouds and face reality!" Dean clenched his jaw, staring me down with a murderous glare, "Megan has a chance when Abigail doesn't."

"Abigail _does_ have a chance, Sam! You heard her, or have you forgotten?" Dean snapped.

"Abigail isn't going to make it, Dean!" I shouted at him, "You need to accept the fact that she's gone! The only thing keeping her alive is those machines," I pointed to the life support, staring Dean down, "and guess what, you're doing nothing but hurting her…if you loved her—"

Dean coiled his arm back and punched my jaw, "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" I gingerly brought my hand up to my face, glaring at him upon tasting copper. I pulled my hand away, seeing blood on my fingertips from my lip, and ran my tongue against it.

"Yeah, I get that a lot when you're too stubborn to see what's really going on." I stated coolly, "You need to let her go. I did with Jess—"

"Abigail is _not_ Jess, and I _will_ _not_ let her go! _Not_ like this! If she dies, this on me!" He shouted, tapping his hand across his chest, "Not you, not dad—but me! She was there for me—"

"When I wasn't. Yeah, I get it." I deadpanned.

"Boys." The both of us spun around to see Dad standing in the doorway with a stern face. Dean instantly shrunk back, averting his eyes like he had done the greatest sin. I remained near the wall, holding my face. His eyes looked me up and down before they flickered over to Dean for a moment, "What's going on, that you two have to act like a bunch of idiots?" Dean remained silent, glaring over at me from the corner of his eyes, "Don't look over at your brother, Dean. Look at me if you have an attitude." He said sternly, and Dean clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes at him instead.

"They're wanting to pull the plug on Abigail." Dean finally said.

Dad looked over to me, "Is this true?"

I nodded, letting my hand fall to my side, "Yes, sir…they said that she wasn't getting any better. She had a stroke caused by the edema, and-and she went into cardiac arrest." I shook my head a little, "If she _did_ wake up, there was a chance she wouldn't even remember us." I swallowed down a lump in my throat, "Dad…she's suffering."

John nodded quietly, glancing between the two of us for a moment, then allowed his eyes to fall on Abigail. His expression was hard, but the look in his eyes were contemplative, like he knew something and we didn't. "We're pulling the plug."

"_What?_" Dean's eyes widened, "Dad, wait—"

He gave Dean a sharp look, "Don't argue with me. Sam's right, as long as she's hooked up to those machines, she's doing nothing but suffering." Dean stared at Dad with a betrayed look, however, he never said a word, "Dean, you're with me. Sam, you stay with Abigail."

Dean and I exchanged looks. I nodded, watching as they both walked out of the room. I turned back to Abigail's body, silently praying that somehow, she would pull through. I sat down beside her, gently taking her cold hand in mine, feeling reality sink in. Blinking away tears, my bottom lip trembled, and I bowed my head, bringing her hand against my forehead.

"Abs, come on." I breathed out, "You can't give up. You gotta wake up." My breath shuddered, "You can't leave me here alone with Dad and Dean. We'll kill each other, you of all people know that." The corner of my mouth twitched at a distant memory, "You were the one that gave me that push that got me into college, Abby. I don't think I could've gotten there without you. You saw so much in me that I didn't realize I had. I just wished things were different…" I wiped the heel of my palm under my eyes, "I love you, Abigail. It won't feel right if this is really the end and me not have the courage to tell you that."

I saw Dean's ring on her hand and I blinked away more tears, "Dean loves you and you both have a baby. For their sake and mine, Abigail, you gotta hold on. You can't go. Not now. We need you, Abigail. The three of us were just starting to be a family again."

The steady beeping of the heart monitor and the clicking of the oxygen bag were the only form of response that I received, "Can you hear me?" I asked softly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Hallway-Night**_

"Dad, you can't be serious!" I argued, "After everything Abs has done for us, you're just gonna give up on her like Sam?!"

Dad gave me a stern look and halted. I stopped, "Dean, I'm not giving up on her." I furrowed my brows at him. What was he doing then? "Do you trust me?"

I nodded, "Yes, sir…of course."

He took his hands and placed them on my shoulders, "Then you need to trust me on this."

"Okay…okay." I said quietly, looking to the floor.

"You know," Dad said quietly, "When you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen…I'd be—I'd be wrecked." His mouth twitched into that of a small smile, "And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say, _It's okay, Dad._"

I furrowed my brows at him, looking down at his hands on my shoulders, "Dad…this really you talking?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable and shocked at how he was being.

He nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."

"Why are you saying this stuff?" I asked.

"I want you to watch out for Sammy and Abs, okay?" He said.

I frowned at him, "Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me."

Dad looked sad, like he was running out of time. This was unsettling with me. What the hell was going on? "Don't be scared, Dean." He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

I jerked away with narrowed eyes. I couldn't believe what he was asking me to do, "I can't believe you," I grunted, pissed, "First, you ask me to pull the plug on Abs—the mother of my kid, and now you ask me to do…" I couldn't even finish. Instead, I looked over my shoulder growing aware of my brother being in the room a few feet away. "I'm going to see my kid." And I turned to leave to go be with my baby.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Empty Room—Night**_

I sat on the bed with Tessa behind me, running a hairbrush through my hair tenderly, "It time to put the pain behind you."

"And go where?" I asked.

I heard her chuckle from behind, "Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline." Tessa was quiet for a beat, "Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?" She asked in a serious tone.

I turned towards her, my decision weighing on the tip of my tongue, waiting to fall out. Suddenly the light started to flicker and a familiar buzzing droned around us. I furrowed my brows at her, "What are you doin' that for?"

Tessa's eyes widened, "I'm not doing it."

We turned at the same time to a vent in the floor to see black smoke pour out of it. My breath hitched in my throat.

"What the hell?" I asked.

Tessa looked at it, scared, "You can't do this!" She shouted, "Get away!" The smoke came at her and she screamed. I swallowed.

"Tessa?" I asked.

She turned, her eyes glowing yellow, "Today's your lucky day, kid."

Before I could move, the demon placed Tessa's hand on my forehead and I blacked out.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Abigail's Room—Night**_

Dean and Dad had been gone a while. _Probably talking to the doctors,_ I thought.

There was a loud, strangled gasp coming from Abigail, and I jumped up from her waking suddenly. Her eyes were wide and started to choke on the tube in her throat.

"Abigail?!" I exclaimed, shocked. I slammed the door open to her room and ran out to the hallway, "Help! I need help!" I yelled out. I saw Abigail's hand reach up and she touched the tube in her mouth. I hurried to the bed, and petted her head and held her hand. "Abigail, don't do that, okay. Shh." I saw tears running down her face—she was scared and confused. I felt someone pull me away from her, and I saw dad gripping my shoulders. I saw a team of doctors surrounding her to calm her down in order to take out the breathing tube.

"Go get Dean." Dad ordered. He didn't have to tell me twice.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's POV<strong>_

_**NICU**_

Here I was again in this stupid pink gown that went over my clothes to see Megan—it was _regulation_. This had to be my sixth time up here today; you'd think I wouldn't complain about what they made me wear. I literally looked like a walking bottle of Pepto-Bismol with a hairnet and gloves. I looked absolutely ridiculous, but to be with Megan, I would do anything. Staring at the little bundle of pink, I realized that she was going to be a week old in three days. I sat back in the rocker next to her incubator, blinking out of shock. She was hooked up to wires and there was a tiny tube up her nose. I looked at how fast her chest was rising up and down. She definitely is a Winchester, but I could see so much of Abigail, it pained me deeply to think about what was going to happen.

I put my hand on the glass, "Hey sweetheart, it's your Dad, again." I felt a small weak smile on my face, "You keep on going. It's what your Mom would've wanted." I had to force down the knot that had formed in my throat, "I'm so sorry you won't know her. Your uncle Sammy doesn't know our mom either." I spoke gently into the opening, "Your mother—God—your mother chose your name because she thought you were a fighter. And you definitely are."

My teeth clenched to fight back some of the emotions I had bottled up, "She was my responsibility, Megan, and I failed her." I hung my head, reaching into the incubator with a gloved hand to take my daughter's tiny hand in my finger, and she returned the favor with an iron grip, "It was my fault, and...I am so sorry, Megan." I felt a single tear come down my cheek, then I heard footsteps running this direction, and then banging off the NICU window. Confused, I twisted in my seat and saw Sam with a scared look on his face. As quick as he was in the window, he turned and left in a hurry.

Carefully, I pulled away from Megan, and closed the hatch before I stood up to leave. All I could think about was they were pulling the plug on Abigail without me there. I left out of the NICU, ripping the gown off of me, and started running to her room, hoping I wasn't too late. When I came up to her room, and there were doctors conversing and I saw Abigail's body sitting up in the bed. I saw her eyes were squeezed shut, bowed over the bed, vomiting after they removed the tube.

_She's breathing_, I thought in relief, _Thank God, she's alive_. I started to go in, but someone was holding me back. I looked over to see that Dad and Sam had grabbed me before I could rush in, "Let me go!"

"Dean, not yet." Sam grunted, "They're getting her cleaned up."

I jerked away from the both of them, watching her closely as she let out strangled gasps and coughing loudly before dry-heaving.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Abigail's Room—Day**_

The doctor was looking at me in awe, like he had just witnessed some kind of miracle, "I can't explain it, Miss. Winchester." He said looking down at the charts, "The edema's vanished, you have no sign of a stroke...the internal contusions are healed—your vitals are good." He smiled at me, "You have some kind of angel watching over you."

I smiled wearily, "Well, I gotta say I ain't the average bear, Boo Boo."

Dean and Sam smiled wryly from beside me, nodding to the doctor, "Thanks, doc." Dean said. The doctor left and I leaned back in my bed, feeling rough. This was as bad as a hangover and I was sore. My sides, leg, face, and stomach were aching from the injuries I had received, but I didn't remember anything after the cabin. I licked my cracked lips, looking to Dean and Sam.

"So ya'll said a reaper was after me?" I asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, "Yeah." Sam replied.

I furrowed my brows, "How'd I ditch it?"

Dean tucked a stay strand of hair behind my ear tenderly, and shrugged a shoulder, "You got me, sugar pie."

The expression on Sam's face was almost incredulous, "Abigail, you really don't remember anything?"

I rose my brows, pulling my face into a look of genuine confusion, "No." I replied, "Except this…pit in my stomach." I frowned, "Guys, something's wrong…_very _wrong." Dean's hand stroked my hair before pulling me toward him to plant a tender kiss on my temple, "So…we have a daughter?"

Dean glanced to Sam quickly, and smiled, "Yeah, and she's as stubborn as you."

"Have you seen her yet?" I asked.

"All day every day since we've been here." Sam said with a small smile.

My face fell and I blinked back tears, "Is-is she gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." Dean said quickly. Sam gave a warning look, "She's doing fine."

"This is my fault…" I whispered out. Sam and Dean frowned at my statement.

Sam reached for my hand, "Abby, this isn't your fault." He said gently.

"No, it isn't." Dean added, "You're alive and Megan's alive. You having her early, that isn't your fault. Not one bit—" There was a light knock at the door. It was John. Quickly, I wiped around my eyes and smiled at him while Dean seemed to tense up and Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Hey dad." I croaked out.

He smiled at me, coming into the room, "How you feeling, girl?"

I shrugged, "Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

John nodded, "That's what matters."

"So, where were you last night?" Sam asked suddenly, growing angry. "You were gone for a while when we needed you."

"I had some things to take care of." John said simply.

"Well, that's specific." He muttered from beside me, and I nudged him in his side. Sam looked over to me with a sharp look and I raised a brow at him.

"Come on, Sammy. I just woke up." I said lightly.

Sam stared at me for a beat, then to Dean and turned his head to John, "Did you go after the demon?" He asked, ignoring what I said. I hung my head, shaking it in aggravation.

John stared back at Sam calmly, "No."

Sam's mouth twisted into a scoff, "You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

"Can we not fight?" John asked suddenly. I raised my head, staring at him in shock. _What's going on here?_ "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I-I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

Sam looked at his father chastised, "Dad, are you alright?

John glanced to each of us and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired." He took a deep breath and sighed, "Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" He asked Sam softly.

Sam blinked at his question and nodded, "Uh…Yeah. Yeah, sure." He said growing quiet, more dutiful and left, throwing Dean and I a confused look. John looked after him sadly, before turning to us.

I frowned, "Dad, what's goin' on?"

His hazel eyes were filled with sadness, and I _felt _it. It wasn't just sadness, it was regret and fear. I suddenly got scared. I gripped Dean's hand tightly at that. "Abigail, Dean, I'm sorry."

"What for?" I asked, growing anxious. My heart monitor made it evident by the quick beeping. I felt kind of embarrassed about that, but it is what it is.

John was quiet for a beat, "For everything I ever said to you two." He stated, looking to us both, "I shouldn't have said those things to you…especially about your child." Dean looked down, getting upset, "Dean—" he slowly looked up to his father, "You shouldn't have had to say that to me when you were a kid, I should have been saying that to you."

I looked over to him, seeing tears glistening in his eyes, "You know, I put—I put too much on your shoulders…the both of you. I made you grow up too fast, Dean, and I tried to make you forget your family, Abigail. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me the longest time, Dean. When Abigail came to live with us, the both of you both did that no matter how much you two fought with each other, and neither of you didn't complain, not once."

He took a sharp breath, shifting in his spot, and looked to us with sincerity in his eyes, "I just wanted you to know that I am so proud of you—the both of you." John said, "And I couldn't be any prouder of Megan. The two of you need to keep a close eye on her and Sammy, and make sure they never leave your sight."

I nodded, not really understanding what was going on, "Of course, Dad…but, what's going on?" I searched his face for some kind of clues as to why he was suddenly doing a confessional, "Is-is somethin' bad gonna happen?"

John smiled at me, "No. Not at all, Abby." I couldn't help but feel like this was a lie. It just felt like one, like I had just said it myself. I wanted to believe that, but I just couldn't.

"It's just been a long week, Abs." Dean said lightly, earning a grateful look from his father, "For-for all of us, that's all." The interaction between the two made me uncomfortable. It wasn't unusual for Dean to back John up after saying something, and vise versa…but what I felt from the both of them was completely different than what they were trying to pull off.

"You know…if I wasn't so tired, I'd call bullshit on the both of you." I said looking to each of them. I caught their exchanged glances, "I might've been born in the dark, but it wasn't last night."

John smiled, approaching me, "Just trust me, kiddo." He said gently and hugged me. Thrown off by this, it took me a moment to register the embrace and I hugged him back, gripping the back of his jacket as tightly as I could and fought back tears. He was somehow telling me goodbye.

"You're leavin' again, aren't you?" I muttered quietly into the crook of his neck.

John started to chuckle, stepping back a little to give me a kiss on the forehead before he gave Dean a curt nod and walked to the door where he paused, looking over his shoulder, "I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise."

I nodded, even though I didn't believe him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Hallway—Day**_

I was heading back to dad's room with his cup of coffee. What dad said had been on my mind since I left Abigail's room. It wasn't like him to get all sentimental. Something wasn't right, and I felt like this needed to be brought up.

_Maybe I can just talk about this with him_, I thought to myself as I walked down the hallway. _Just take it slow and maybe not argue about it. I shouldn't have told him to 'go to hell'. He's my father._ I passed by Abigail's room, and stopped to find Dean cupping her cheek and kissing her. A smile grew on my face, despite the painful tug in my chest. I was truly glad that Abigail had pulled through. The five of us could all watch Megan grow up together; me, Abigail, Dean, and...

"Dad." I breathed out in shock as I saw him lying on the floor. I dropped the coffee and ran to his body, "Dad, hey. Wake up." I shook him, but he didn't move. I blinked back tears, not wanting to believe the worst, and I yelled from the top of my lungs for someone to help him.

Dean and I were holding Abigail up since she was too weak to walk on her own. We saw dad lying stretched out and unresponsive on a bed as the doctors and nurses were performing chest compressions and using an AMBU bag to resuscitate him. The alarms were blaring throughout the room—it was like _Deja vu_.

"I'm sorry, everyone you can't be here." said a nurse blocking the doorway to his room.

"No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad!" cried Dean as he was looking at the sight before us. "Come on." he pleaded, handing Abigail over to me. I pulled her into a tight embrace, watching one of the nurses inject dad's IV with something. Abigail was clutching my shirt tightly, hearing her breathing heavy and I felt her body tremble against mine. She was terrified.

After five long minutes, the doctor slowly straightened up with a grim look on his face, "Okay, stop compressions" he ordered. As they stopped, the monitor just gave a single, drowning tone throughout the room.

I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Come on. Come on." I heard Dean plea quietly, his distraught facial expression not changing.

"Still no pulse." said a nurse.

I was in shock. Holding Abigail against me, I looked at Dean, who was pale faced with dread.

"Okay that's it everybody." said the doctor, "I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 am"

"Dad, no." I heard Abigail croak out, "Oh, God, no!" I felt her back away from me, watching as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She mumbled out 'no' multiple times, withdrawing herself into her own personal shell. She was completely losing it, and I could hear her breathing laboring like she was having a panic attack.

"Abigail, listen—" I cringed when she started to scream out 'no' and sob, sliding down the wall onto the floor. I joined her trying to pull her into me, and found myself to only get pushed away. When she done that, I grabbed her arm and pulled her close. As weak as she was already, her struggles weren't a big deal, but had she been at full health, I would've had a problem controlling her.

Her cries literally broke my heart, and I finally looked to Dean, waiting for him to do something. _Anything._ He didn't budge. I then saw a nurse exiting Dad's room, catching a glimpse of his body on the bed. I had to get Abigail calm, she was near hysterical!

I had no other options, "Nurse, do you have something to calm her?" I asked, and she gave me a small, sad smile as she left. She came back with a small needle, and Abigail look at her, instantly growing still with fear.

Abigail started to pull away from me, "No, Sam. No needles."

I held her in her place, "Abs, it will help you sleep."

She shook her head vehemently, "_No_ Sam!" She fought against my grip like a wild animal, crying and pleading, "You can't make me!" She cried out, "Dean, don't let him hurt me!"

I turned to see Dean still not moving. I hissed out when I felt her nails dig my skin, and pushing me away roughly, "Dean!" I called out, "Dean!" I practically pinned Abigail to the wall where she lashed her legs out to kick, and I managed to capture one of them in my leg, trapping her. As the nurse injected her, Abigail let out pitiful slurred pleas to let her go. I blew out a relieved and ragged sigh, knowing for the most part, she could rest. Something had to be done.

I took a moment to hold her up, glancing over her a moment and spotted red seeping through her gown. I frowned at that. _She must've of pulled a few staples from her incision_.

"Abigail?" I looked up and saw her eyes closing before her head slumped over.

"Put her back in her room." ordered her doctor, who had rushed to us, offering to help.

As gently as I could, I picked her with one arm under her legs as the other held her back. I saw her head roll back as she looked like a rag doll.

"Dean." He remained still, "_Dean!_" I barked out, trying to illicit some kind of response from my brother. I didn't have time for this! I followed her doctor back into her room where I placed Abigail gently on her bed. Several nurses were hooking up the monitors back on her, and I heard a fast-paced beep from the monitor.

I looked up at the screen with wide eyes, "She is tachycardic getting ready to go into cardiac arrest. Get a crash cart in here STAT." One of the nurses ordered.

I ran my hands through my hair. _This wasn't happening! _I waited outside as I saw the doctors cut her gown open and exposed her bare chest, catching Dean from the side of me in a rush to get to her.

"Abs!" he shouted.

"Dean, stop!" I grunted out, holding him back. We stood outside the room once again going through another nightmare.

"_Charging_!" shouted the doctor as he placed the paddles on her chest. "_Clear_!" The electric thud forced Abigail's body to arch up. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I saw her come down lifeless. Then a steady heartbeat was heard shortly after. "Back to normal sinus rhythm."

Dean scrubbed his face, unable to take another blow emotionally and mentally. Hell, we both were.

A female doctor come up to us, and introduced herself "Mr. McGullicutty, my name is Dr. Lockhart." She introduced herself. Dean turned to her, "I've been the doctor that has been keeping an eye on your daughter."

"Can we discuss this later, lady?" Dean said, growing increasingly irritated, "We're not up for anymore disappointments."

She smiled, despite the snide comment from him, "Actually, I am here with good news; Megan is doing fine. Her organs and health overall are developing faster than any other premature baby I have ever taken care of."

_I couldn't believe it_, I thought, seeing Dean squeeze his eyes shut and hang his head. Despite the loss of our father, and the near heart-attack that Abigail had went through, I found myself placing my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. I couldn't believe it. Megan was healing just as quickly as Abigail had. The both of them were alive, but we all suffered a terrible loss.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Woods—Night**_

Sam and I stood watching the fire climb higher in silence. This was it. Our parents—both of them—were now dead. Together in the afterlife, as many religious figures would say. So they may. I didn't know, and I didn't think I wanted to know. I was still reeling, and this funeral pyre had only solidified that Dad was really gone. He wasn't off on some crap hunt or on a Miller Time shift…he was gone.

Abigail had stayed behind. Not that I didn't blame her. She was still in shock and she was still recovering from her injuries and caesarean. Bobby had offered to sit with her a while, so that put my mind as ease.

In the glow of the fire, Sam watched the flames close to tears and fidgeted around, "Before he... before, did he say anything to you or Abigail? About anything?" I heard him ask in a broken voice.

I couldn't look at my brother in the eye and tell him. I didn't have the heart. "No. Nothing."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm happy to announce that Part Two is out, and it actually ended up being shorter than what I expected. I think that this ended on a good note, as well as settling many of ya'll's minds, despite that John died.<strong>

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, so not all credit is going to me, but to her as well! **

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <span><em>Paradise Lost<em> by Hollywood Undead.**

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><p><strong>grapejuice101- I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I sure hope that this eased your mind about the baby!<strong>

**giddyfan- Thank you! Hope you liked it as much as I did!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! That means a lot to hear that! Trust me, I was in tears just writing some parts out as well as writing out John's death. It's hard to let go of a character (even if they're not mine)!**

**ebonywarrior85- Awe, thank you! It was just a little something I came up with. Like my momma says, 'a little bit goes a long way.' haha.**

**angelicedg- Awe, I'm so glad you liked them! I can't have all the credit though, _Ladysunshine6 _helped me out with it-especially when the mystery man comes in! (;**

**Romantic Journalist- Thank you! I try to update the story anywhere from a couple of days to a week/week and a half. It really depends on my homework, errands, if I have to babysit my nephew and sister-in-law, or if my husband has to work or not. There's a lot of factors I try to put into consideration, but I also try to work as efficient and as quick as I can to get it out to you guys!**


	4. Everybody Loves a Clown (Part One)

_Fading, falling, lost in forever_  
><em>Will I find a way to keep it together?<em>  
><em>Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?<em>  
><em>Can it be a conscious decision?<em>  
><em>That I look for ways to alter my vision?<em>  
><em>Am I speeding towards another collision in the alleyways of my life?<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Hospital—Early Morning**_

I couldn't believe it. John was really gone. The last thing he ever said to me replayed over in my mind; _I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise_. Yeah, well, a lot of good it did. After about the thirtieth time of crying and sobbing, it still infuriated me. I hadn't been aloud out of my room, I hadn't been able to see my own daughter due to protocol standards, and I endured _several_ long psych exams to ensure that I wasn't going crazy. Believe me, I was just about there from just staying in here longer than what I had to.

Sam and Dean had made the trek with John's body to somewhere secluded for a traditional hunter's funeral—an age old funeral pyre like back in the day. Many frowned upon it, thought it was effective so that whomever died couldn't have something attached and become an aggressive spirit.

_Christ_. I swiped my hand under my swollen eyes to rid myself of another round of tears. I wanted out of this place. I wanted my daughter with me, I wanted Sam and Dean with me, and most of all, I wanted John back. In all my years, I had never felt so alone, granted, Bobby had stayed with me while the boys were gone. At the moment, he had run into town for something—I couldn't really remember what it was he was after—but he said it wouldn't be long.

"Miss Winchester?" a kind, soft voice said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head off of my pillow to see a nurse that worked up in the NICU. I think her name was Ashley, "How are you doing today?"

I slowly sat up, feeling the pull of my staples, "I can't complain, I guess." I said hoarsely, "How's Megan doing?"

She stepped into my room, "She's doing just fine, but there is a little implication." Fear flared up within me, then saw her smile to me reassuringly, "Nothing to be worried about though, her stats are seeming a little low—babies often go through things like that. Especially in micro-preemies, like your daughter." I felt the reassurance from her, which seemingly calmed me down. With a simple nod, Ashley smiled, "After a week and a half, I think it's time for you to come meet your daughter."

My eyes widened, "What, now?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, of course!" I shifted in my bed. _Was this really happening?_

"I was cleared?"

Ashley nodded, "Yes, ma'am. Your psych evaluations and everything's come back good. Your doctor cleared you to come up and see her." Despite the lump that formed in my throat, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement and nervousness, glancing behind her to the door expecting Sam and Dean to come in or Bobby, but neither of them did. I blew out a long and slow breath. This was surreal.

"When can I go?" I asked.

"I sent for a wheelchair just before I came down here," Ashley replied checking her watch, "Should be here any minute." I nodded, running a quick hand through my hair and pulled the hair tie that was around my wrist off, pulling my scraggly mop of hair into a bun so that I looked half-way decent for my daughter. "You really do have a little miracle baby, Abigail."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When you guys arrived, we weren't sure either of you were going to make it. You were in bad shape, and little Megan was bad off. You two really do have an angel looking over you."

I forced myself to smile despite the pit that had formed in my stomach solidified itself again, "Yeah…I guess we do."

* * *

><p>After making it into the NICU, there were several rooms with incubators and the tiniest babies I ever saw. I couldn't believe my eyes, and from each one, I felt their pain, their loneliness, and their longing to be held. Each one was as scared as the other, which absolutely broke my heart. Ashley wheeled me to the last room. There sat an incubator, the heart monitors above it beeping rhythmically. When we stopped, I leaned forward seeing a tiny baby lying on top a bright pink blanket, and swaddled up in another one.<p>

I suddenly found it hard to breathe seeing the tiny form that was my daughter. "Is that-?"

"Yup, that's Miss Megan." She answered for me, watching as I covered my mouth. Tears blurred my sight instantly when my daughter's tiny form twitched her arms, "Your boyfriend, Dean? He's been up here every day with her—she definitely knows him as her dad."

I swallowed, "I heard."

"He and his brother actually brought in those blankets the other day, right before you woke up." Ashley recollected. I looked up at her with a tiny smile, "You're very lucky to have a family like you do."

"Thanks." I murmured, shifting forward to look into the incubator. All was quiet for a moment until I took a deep breath to ask a question that I didn't really want to hear the answer to, "Do you know when she'll be able to come home?"

"It won't be for a while." She said, "I've seen some stay for a few days, to a few months. With Megan, she'll most likely stay until her supposed due date."

"So, November?" I asked as I kept my eyes on my daughter, watching her chest rise up and down, "Three months."

"Perhaps earlier if she's doing a lot better by that time, but I can't make you any promises." Ashley said.

"It's fine," I told her quietly, "I just want her to be healthy."

"The neonatologist wants to ensure that Megan's going to gain weight and eat properly, breathe without the help of oxygen—which, she's doing great by the way," She added with a smile, "and can meet all of the milestones with little to no problems." Ashley explained, "You'll see her doctor from time to time, so if you or Dean has any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

I nodded, "I'm sure I will, thanks."

"No problem," She replied, "If you want to, you can hold her."

I gaped, glancing back to my tiny child and back to her, "I-I, uh, I might break her."

Ashley laughed in amusement at my concerns as she walked over to the windows, closing the blinds, "No, you won't, Abigail. She's quite tough."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive." She replied with a nod, "We're gonna try a little something called Kangaroo care."

"Not to sound stupid, but what's that?" I asked.

"It's where you hold your baby skin-to-skin. It has really good results and benefits." Ashley said before she glanced to her watch, "Actually, it's almost time for her to be fed…do you plan on breastfeeding?"

"Yeah, my mom did it…figured I'd give it a shot." I replied with a small shrug, glancing to the recliner-type chair that sat beside the incubator, then saw Ashley unlatch the lid and lifted it up. After she had it secured, she turned to me.

"How you're going to want to hold her is to take these cords and drape them over your arm, like so," she instructed. I glanced to at least four or five different things coming from Megan, and watched Ashley drape them over her forearm, "Since this is your first time breastfeeding, you'll see her try to move about and inch her way to your breast. Try not to stop her cause looks are deceiving. She'll take a moment to rest, and she'll latch herself, should she not have any problems."

"Has she?" I asked, looking to Ashley.

She smiled, "No, she's been eating great. She takes her bottles like a pro."

I snorted a little, "She's like her dad then. Constantly eats."

"Is that so?" Ashley laughed, taking a step to the side, "Then she should gain weight in no time."

Standing up, I slowly approached the incubator, gathering all the cords and draped them across my arm, "Like this?" I asked, seeing her nod approvingly.

"Yes, perfect." I let out breath to calm me down, cause Lord knows I was shaking like a leaf. I slid my hands under her head and body, which literally fit in my hands, and I carefully took her out, bringing her to my chest. It was definitely hard seeing her hooked up to them, but they were on her for a good reason, and that was something I needed to always remember. It amazed me at how light she was. My daughter was almost as light as a feather, and that revelation brought another round of tears to my eyes.

After I sat down with Megan in my arms, Ashley helped me undo my gown in order to tuck Megan within it, feeling her tiny body against my bare chest. It was the most spectacular feeling I had ever felt. One of the best highs I've ever been on, and it was one that I didn't want to come down from. It had taken Megan a total of five minutes to inch her way down to one of my breasts, another couple of minutes to rest, and finally latched on.

It was definitely an awkward feeling, but it felt right—like how God intended it. Just in that time, I had fallen completely head over heels for my daughter. She made tiny whimpers and sucking noises that made my heart feel like a whirlwind, and the amount of love I felt from her made me want to cry. This was totally new to me. New to Dean and Sam, but this also brought me a light at the end of a rough tunnel.

I gently pulled my gown up over my free shoulder, tucking it under my arm with the cords. I took this moment to take in her features. She was beautiful. Whenever she would peek at me through her long lashes that she got from Dean, a pair of dazzling blue eyes would look back at me. She had the tiniest feet and hands that would occasionally extend from me touching her toes and palm, and my _God_, her hair! I was surprised she had as much hair, but then again, I wasn't surprised due to the extensive amount of heartburn I had.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked her gently, "I'm your momma. I've been asleep for a while." Megan continued to suckle away, making her tiny noises, and I let out a soft chuckle, "You've been the one that's given me heartburn, and a horrible obsession with peanut butter." I looked to her feet again and smile, "and I know those feet of yours do some damage."

There was a knock on the door, causing me to look up warily. It was Dean and Sam. Dean stopped in his tracks, breathless at the sight of me holding and breastfeeding our daughter. "Hey, you." I said gently.

Sam bumped into Dean seeing that I was exposed, then looked away abashed, "Oh, God. Sorry!"

Dean blinked remembering that Sam was there, "Dude."

"Ya'll are actin' like it's the first pair of boobs you've seen." I said jokingly. They smiled weakly at me, and stepped into the room after I gestured them in, "Hell, babies gotta eat, too. Especially since this'n is of Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled, "I told you she had a ton of hair."

I nodded, running my fingertips over her forehead gently, "That you did." I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I felt familiar fingertips touching the skin on my neck, and smelling the familiar scent of Dean's aftershave as well as an earthy fragrance. Dean placed a kiss on my temple as tears were forming. We were all silent for a moment. I had felt their sorrow and emptiness when they stepped to the door, but after coming into the room, it had all changed to excitement. We all took a moment to not think of the current events and the heartache, and just focused on what we had. Family, birth, life. It's all we had.

* * *

><p><em><strong>One Week Later<strong>_

_**Singer Auto Salvage**_

Since I had gotten out of the hospital, no one has really called me other than Charlie and Kara to express their worry about Megan, myself, and their condolences about John's death. They offered to come down and stay with me for a week or two, but I simply refused stating the same old thing I usually say. I'm the queen of _okay_, here. The master of _I'm fine_. Everything was all honky dory, except…it wasn't. It was far from it, and we were far from being _okay_ or _fine._ Dean was dealing with John's death in his own way by being quiet or pretending everything was fine while Sam was the exact opposite.

"Abigail, what are you doing?" Sam's voice cut through the house, startling me. I fumbled around with the heavy chair that I was moving until it landed on my foot with a painful thud and I yelped out, lifting it up quickly to release my foot. I spun around to see him leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest and a bitchface in full effect. Instantly, I could feel how aggravated he was, therefore, _I _was aggravated.

"I _was_ movin' this chair until you scared the piss outta me," I muttered rubbing the top of my foot, "_that's _what I was doin'."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and the doctor said to not lift anything over ten pounds."

I rolled mine to match his, "Doctors says a lot of things, Sammy, like don't drink too much beer or it'll give you liver disease, or don't eat too much or you'll get fat—stupid shit like that." I waved a hand at him dismissively, "You can't fart sideways without them tellin' ya a bunch of crock." I gripped my hands on either side of the chair and grunted, then let go again quickly when a sharp pain shot across my abdomen and I leaned forward.

"Abs?" Sam asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." I breathed out, hearing another bang outside, "How long has Dean been out there?"

I looked over my shoulder to Sam, seeing him peer out of a window, "Uh, I think since seven."

I shook my head at him, "You talk to him?"

"Not really, why?" I shrugged, shaking my head dismissively, "Abigail, you wouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know something."

I straightened up, holding my side gingerly, and I turned to look him with an indifferent expression on my face, "He's not really spoke to me today except to ask me something about Megan…that's all."

Sam looked back at me with a soft look and offered me a smile, "That's just Dean being Dean. He's not hardly breathed a word since…you know."

I scoffed, the corner of my mouth tipping up into a smirk, "How could I forget?" I muttered sarcastically, "The day I wake up from some messed up coma and Dad falls over deader'n twelve o'clock." Sam's face twisted into another bitchface and I shrugged, "Well, it's the truth."

"Abigail, neither of you has talked about him." He said stiffly.

I rolled my eyes turning away from him, "Sammy," I groaned out, "C'mon."

"No, Abigail," my little brother said firmly, "You and Dean act like nothing's wrong!"

"Yeah, you're right." I stated peering over my shoulder at him, "Everything is wrong." I lifted my hand a little, only allowing it to hit the back of the chair as Sam blinked at me, astonished, "Hell, before you know it, the stock market's gonna crash and we'll all have to save up on toilet paper and use it as currency!"

Sam's hands flew up in the air, "You know what? I'm sick of your sarcasm, Abigail."

I arched my brow at him, "Yeah, well, I'm gettin' pretty tired of your shaggy hair, but that doesn't mean you're gonna get rid of it." His lips pursed as he ran a hand through his hair at my comment with narrowed eyes. I ignored his pissy look and nodded to the chair, "You gonna help me with this chair or is this gonna become an episode of _Dr. Phil_?"

Sam stared at me coolly, before he relented, "Step aside." I folded my arms, watching as he picked up the chair easily, "Where do you want it?"

I gestured my head over to the wall where I had moved the kitchen table and other chairs to, "Over there's fine." Sam nodded and walked over to the table, setting it down.

"Is there anything else you need moved around for the millionth time?" He asked me.

With pursed lips, I shook my head at him, "No_p_e." I replied, popping the 'p', "You wanna go outside and see what Dean's done to his beloved Baby?" He shrugged, and I pulled two beers from Bobby's fridge, "You wanna beer?"

"Ah, no. It's like, one in the day." He said with a raised brow.

I shrugged at him and twisted the cap off, "It's five o'clock somewhere." Taking a long pull of the beer, I almost groaned at the taste. Seven months of being sober had been too long, but for a good cause. At the dull ache that started in my chest, I winced and nodded to Sam, "C'mon."

Outside was a comfortable eighty degrees. I was rather pleased to be able to run around in a pair of shorts minus the fact that the waist band went directly across my incision. I kept tugging at it until I just tucked the front of my shirt in. I took another sip of my beer as Sam and I walked out to see Dean's legs protruding from underneath frame of the Impala. He had been making considerable time getting it back to tip-top shape, and compared to how it was a week ago, it was considerably less crunched up.

"Hey, you." I said loud enough for him to hear our approach.

Sam didn't wait for him to speak, "How's the car coming along?"

"Slow." Came his reply.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, "Need any help?" I arched my brow at him, wordlessly taking another swig of my beer as he shrugged to me when a loud clatter cause me to jump slightly. A piece of the exhaust fell to the ground, and Dean's body jerked to the side to avoid it.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass." He said as Sam and I came closer to the car.

Sam threw me a frustrated glance, and I lifted my hands in defense. "Need anything else, then?"

Dean pushed himself out from under the car and stood, looking between us skeptically. When I offered him a beer, he took it with a brief nod and headed for the workbench, "Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?" Dean threw him an irritated look after popping the cap off his drink.

"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay." He took a quick drink and swallowed, "I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Alright, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Dean's eyes drifted over to me, "Neither has Abigail."

"You know what? You're right." Sam blinked in astonishment, thinking he had gotten through to him. _Not so fast, Dr. Phil_. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." I smirked at his cynicism, feeling his irritation bubble around in my stomach. I had to chug half of my bottle of beer down to force down a cynical laugh. Sam shoulda seen that one coming for him, or did he forget the sarcastic being that is Dean Matthew Winchester?

Dean smirked, looking from his brother to me and took a drink of his beer while Sam glowered at him, unimpressed. "Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. Megan's in the hospital and is gonna be there for a while," Dean and I narrowed our eyes at his words, "The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and the two of you are acting like nothing happened."

Dean shrugged, "What do you want me to say?'

"Say something, alright?" Sam pleaded, "Hell, say anything! You won't talk to me, hell, you won't even talk to Abs except when it's about Megan!" I gave Sam a sharp look at his comment, but pressed my lips together in a line out of guilt. I might've slipped that secret out on accident, seeing Dean turn his head a bit to look at me with a raised brow, and I returned his look with a guilty frown. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge?" He asked out of exasperation, "But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car!" I turned slightly, "And you, Abigail, all you do is rearrange Bobby's house from top to bottom and lift things you aren't supposed to!"

I furrowed my brows at him, "I have not."

"Then explain to Dean why I caught you rearranging that heavy table and chair set for the sixth time?" He challenged. I glanced to Dean, who was staring at me expectantly and I brought my bottle of beer to my lips, taking a long drink until it was empty. Sam had been on a roll for the past couple of days. It was easy to overlook him when he got into his little moods, but not when he was bringing Dean into it.

Dean was quiet for a moment, taking in Sam's words as well as sending me a warning look for over working myself once again. After a beat, he nodded slowly, "Revenge, huh?" He asked, taking the heat off of me.

Sam looked to Dean and nodded, "Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is?" He asked him, and the cocky look in Sam's eyes disappeared, "Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't, and I know Abs hasn't." Sam glanced to me for a second, "But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. _The Colt's gone_. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay?"

"So you know the only thing I _can_ do?" He asked. Sam never moved to speak, and Dean pointed to the Impala, "Is I can work on the car." Sam lowered his gaze to the ground, chastised, but Dean wasn't finished, "Do you know what Abigail can do? Do everything she can to get her mind off of our daughter that is fighting for her life. The only thing we _can_ do is go to the hospital to see her and then come back here and sit with our thumbs up our asses. That's all there is for us right now." It seemed like Dean was on a roll as well, allowing some of whatever he had bottled up, out.

Finished talking, Dean finished off his beer, set the empty bottle on the workbench before he came over to me and kissed me gently on the lips before he crouched by the car again, getting back to work. He knelt down and began tugging on another section of the frame, then paused, looking directly to me, "If I hear or see you tugging around on something heavy again, we're going to have problems."

I snorted upon feeling his irritation multiplying, "Whatever you say."

He pointed a dirty finger at me, "I meant it, Abs. You've already popped four staples the day you woke up, then popped one the other day from moving Bobby's desk."

I waved him off dismissively, "I'm fine, 'sides, ya'll overreact on what I do anyways."

"It's _not_ overreacting, Abigail." He snapped, "We can't afford you getting hurt because of you being so damn stubborn."

"And that's a bad thing?" I questioned, arching my brow at him.

"It is when you become a liability on a job." Dean said, causing me to frown.

"Pot, this is kettle, you're black." I stated seeing him narrow his eyes at me, "And when the hell have we been on a _job_, Dean?" I asked, "The last time I checked, we were sittin' here with our thumbs up our asses."

Sam shifted, obviously done with our bickering, and cleared his throat. Dean returned to tugging on the frame, "Well, we've got something, alright?" He pulled out a cellphone that I didn't recognize and I looked at it, curious. "It's one of the reasons why I came by here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this." Sam switched the phone to speaker and held it out to Dean. He stood up reluctantly and took the phone, leaning back against the Impala.

"_John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me_." Said a woman's voice. I exchanged a look of confusion with Dean, trying to place that voice with a face; but I had seen so many.

"That message is four months old." Sam told us.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked, scoffing.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean asked, "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?'

I shrugged, toying with the rim of my empty bottle, "No, not that I could recollect."

"I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address." Sam added, which piqued Dean's interest by the way he tilted his head, thinking. It had to have been the most interested he'd been in other than working on the Impala and seeing Megan.

He nodded, signaling that he was in, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." Sam looked almost relieved that Dean was pulling himself away from the Impala, however after he left Dean and I behind, we sat in silence for a beat. The both of us were uncomfortable, and it wasn't just from feeling what Dean felt.

"I guess I know who's stayin' behind," I said lightly.

"You know you can always go." He said.

My eyes met his with a disquieted look, "Well, if I go, who's gonna keep an eye on Meg?" I pointed out.

"I dunno." He said lightly, forming his lips in a thin line, "Bobby?"

"Dean, I can't ask Bobby to watch our two and a half week old daughter, it wouldn't be right." I told him.

Uncertainty rolled off of him in waves, not really knowing what to say next that wouldn't lead up to another fight. "You know…this past week has been hard on all of us, Abs." He finally said, "I was slowly readying myself for our kid to be here. I was fine that I was easing into this parenthood thing, but there was no way I was ready for this." Dean shook his head slowly, "Why do you think I haven't tried to find us a job? I can't bring myself to be away from Megan." I furrowed my brows at him, sensing fear crawling up his spine, "Truth is, Abs. I'm scared shitless about our daughter, and I know this has gotta be hell on you."

When I had said nothing in return, Dean sighed, picking up a shop towel to wipe the oil and grime off his hands. Once they were partially clean, he took a few steps toward me until we were standing at least a foot apart. He was close enough for me to smell gasoline mixed with the pungent odor of grease and oil, and finally the earthy scent of dirt and sweat. Underneath those troubled eyes of his, Dean cupped my face in his hands like I was made of porcelain, placing his forehead against mine with closed eyes, "You and me both know that the three of us need to stretch our legs or we're all going to tear our heads off."

"I know." I muttered.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Abigail. Megan's being taken care of by a good group of nurses, we can call her anytime we want—"

I frowned, "That's not the same, Dean." I said brokenly, "I want her here with us." I shook my head, "I don't want her hooked up to some machine, or gettin' poked on by needles like some science experiment, or alone and scared." Dean's face drew into a pained expression, pulling me against him in an embrace, despite the fact that he was covered in dirt and grease; I was wearing old clothes anyways. "I don't want her to think that we don't love her…I done everythin' right, Dean." I whispered.

His arms wound around me tightly, "I'm a hundred and fifty percent positive that she knows we love her, Abs, and I know you did. Don't you think for a second that you did something wrong." He murmured, pressing his lips against my temple, "Things just happen." I felt him hug me tighter when my shoulders started to shake from me crying, "Hey." Dean said gently, "Hey, hey, hey. Abs, it's not your fault. You did the best you could."

"No, Dean." I said, "I didn't. If I did, then Megan would still be in me and not in the NICU."

Despite my protesting, I knew he was getting just as aggravated over it as I was. I could see it in his eyes when I had taken a step back. Everything seemed like there was no room to breathe or think straight, let alone find solace within each other's arms. One minute it felt like I needed some form of contact, then the next, it felt like I was smothering. Comfort in others just didn't seem doable to me, and all I wanted to do was fight anyone who got in my path, and unfortunately, it had been both Sam and Dean.

After a moment of silence, all Dean did was nod and gently kissed me on the lips, holding it until we both calmed down. The kiss itself wasn't demanding. It was gentle, reassuring—like he was reminding himself that I was here. He did this often, especially after an argument or after working on the Impala for the better half of the day. "We'll go see her before we head out, okay?' He said, pulling away.

I pulled my bottom lip in, debating whether I should go or not.

* * *

><p><em><strong>NICU—Day<strong>_

Sam was holding Megan close humming a lullaby as she squirmed letting out tiny cries of protest. She was hungry and I had just got back from pumping milk into a bottle. Sam and Dean looked up when I arrived holding four ounces of milk in a bottle, setting it on the counter for a minute as I located the cap and nipple for her.

"Abs, Megan's about to eat her hand if you don't hurry up," Dean deadpanned, though highly amused as she moved her head from side to side, popping her tiny hand into her mouth every moment or so. I rolled my eyes at him, fixing everything and handed it to Sam. He grinned when Megan took her bottle.

"So, have you two heard anything about when she'll get out?" Sam asked, looking up to Dean and I.

"Supposedly the day she was supposed to be due." I answered, shifting uncomfortably.

Sam blinked, "Three months? Wow…"

Dean looked utterly uncomfortable at that, "This is going to be a long wait, lemme tell ya." I nodded, bringing my thumb up to my mouth to chew on the skin around my nail, and stopped before I touched my lips. I rolled my eyes at myself. _Close, dumbass._ "Got any ideas how we're supposed to go on jobs while she's still here?"

Sam shrugged, checking the bottle for a second, "I dunno, one of us can stay behind every so often, uh, like, take turns. You and me can go on one or two while Abigail stays behind, then you and Abigail can go on a job or two while I stay behind, and then Abigail and I can go on one while you stay behind."

Dean scrunched his face. _Like he'd miss out on a hunt_. "That's actually not a bad idea." He mused, looking down at Meg, "Check her bottle again."

Sam furrowed his brows at Dean, "Dude, I just checked it."

"Doesn't matter, check it." He told him. I couldn't help but smile at how bossy Dean was, "I don't want her getting pissed cause you let her eat too much."

"She's not gonna get pissed, Dean." Sam said, taking the bottle away once again to look at it. Instead, Dean snatched it and held it up to his face, inspecting it carefully. Sam's eyes flickered over to me, giving me an amused look with a grin. I nodded a second, then saw Dean set it on a table and gestured for him to hand over Megan, and snickered.

"Alright, princess there needs burped, give her to me." He said impatiently.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I know how to burp a baby, Dean. Relax." With Megan still bundled up, he sat her forward, carefully placing his thumb and index finger on her chin so that she didn't come forward too much and started to pat her back as well as rubbing it to try and coax her to burp. Dean shifted in his seat, watching Sam like a hawk with impatience written all over his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth pursed into a pout. Sam and I both knew it irritated Dean when he didn't get to burp her. Judging from his hands clenching and unclenching, he was about to blow a gasket.

"Okay, you did it long enough." Dean said quickly, "Give."

"Dude, will you hang on? I almost got her." Sam protested in a hushed voice.

_Those two are seriously acting like a bunch of kids_. I mused with a smug grin. Dean sat back, crossing his arms like a mad five year old, and let his legs slide forward until they were straight. Sam just grinned, chuckling as Megan let out a series of whines, making Dean squirm.

"Your dad's about to throw a fit," Sam told her, earning a withering look from Dean. Thankfully, I managed to get a picture on my cellphone of this moment or Dean would've really fell out.

"I am not." He grumped, "Just give me my kid."

Sam shook his head as he continued to pat her back until the teeniest of burps sounded and he smiled victoriously, "See?"

"Well good for you," Dean muttered, before he gaped when Sam leaned forward to get the bottle and popped it in her mouth, "Sam! I'm not playing—" He looked at me, "Abs, tell him to give me my kid!"

"Hey," I raised my hands in my defense, "This is between you two. I'm just enjoyin' the show." Dean's hands threw up, hitting his legs with a loud blow of air passing his lips out of protest. He was literally about to have a conniption fit. After a minute, Sam laughed, taking the bottle away from Megan. It didn't take a second that she started crying out for it.

"Here," Sam told him. Dean leaned forward and took her in his arms, minding the group of cords, and very carefully, cradled her in his arms. Sam handed him the bottle, watching as Dean popped it back into her mouth and smiled at her. If there was one thing that he loved more than anything, it was his daughter, Sam, and me. And the scene before me was evidence of just that.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Roadhouse Saloon<strong>_

_**Central Nebraska**_

After a long and bitter drive to the address that Sam had traced, we made it to a place called the Roadhouse Saloon in the beat up minivan that Bobby had lent us. It was basically a piece of junk, and I seriously doubted that the thing could make it back to South Dakota without Dean having to fiddle with it. A loud, high-pitched squeal caused me to grimace after Dean threw it up in park and killed the engine with a similar grimace.

"This is humiliating." Dean claimed getting out of the van and eyed it with a sour look. I jerked back and forth on the sliding door, failing miserably by the way, and I tapped on the glass with an agitated growl. He furrowed his brows jerking on the handle a few times before it finally relented, letting me out. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

"You heard Bobby, it was the only one he had runnin'." Sam said.

I choked out an amused laugh, "Oh, don't let him get to you, Sammy," I said, "he's just poutin' cause it ain't his car." Sam smiled at me as I lifted my shirt up over my incision spot to see it an angry red in some places, and good lord it itched! I made a mental note to clean around it when I had the chance. Dean had been looking at it as well with assessing eyes, before they trailed up to me. "I know, I know. It's gonna get it cleaned."

"I didn't say anything." He quipped.

"Yeah, well, you were thinking it." Dean tilted his head in agreement as I let my shirt down and stood up on my tip toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He closed his eyes after I pulled back away from him, turning to look around the property with Sam. Even by Sam, I felt something was bothering him; scaring him all over again.

"Hello?" Sam called out, "Anybody here?"

I glanced back at him briefly before I could assess the Roadhouse. It appeared to be abandoned, but looks were deceiving at times. I took off my sunglasses, tucking them to the front of my shirt before I pulled my hair up into a bun that left a few strands free, and looked around us. The property was situated on graveled patch of land with old petrol bowsers left unattended and dusty from being outside. The architecture itself looked worn by the arid elements of Nebraska seeing that it was old weatherboard. It had a tin roof over the front porch that brought a small smile.

_I bet it sounded great during a rainstorm._ I thought, glancing from the tin roof to the dusty windows, peering in. It was dark inside, plus the glare from the sun didn't quite help my visibility.

"Hey." I looked over quickly, seeing Dean standing by the door, "You bring the, uh…"

I nodded, "Of course." I pulled out my lock pick kit, tossing it to him. Dean threw me a thankful smile, in return, I smiled back to him. It didn't take Dean long to pick the locks, and pushed the door open, nodding to Sam and I to follow him inside. I went in after Dean with Sam close behind, closing the door on our way in.

_Maybe getting away from everything was what we needed after all_, I mused, taking in the dark interior of the saloon. It was fairly quiet except for a fly buzzing somewhere, and I could smell stale beer and nicotine from the cigarettes. Judging from the light filtering in from the closed shades, the interior of the Roadhouse was far more comfortable than the outside. Paneling line the walls accompanied by hardwood floors and finished off with a wood topped bar. Classic design, but preferred in my opinion. A jukebox stood in the corner with tables and chairs scattered about.

_I like this place already_. I thought of the possibility—if we didn't get shot for B and E of course—that I could jam out to a song or two before heading back to Bobby's. Then I heard a light bulb go out, and that made me jump. Dean's arm wrapped around my middle in reassurance, despite the guarded look he gave me as we both pressed further to the back of the establishment. We spotted a man soundly passed out on a pool table. He was tall and lanky, decked out in the same attire that we wore—jeans, jackets, and plaid. A mullet was just the cherry on top, causing me to raise a brow to the poor soul unaware of our presence.

"Hey, buddy?" I said. No answer, except for a loud snore. "I'm guessin' that isn't Ellen." I commented, throwing a look over to Dean.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. Sam moved to the back of the room while Dean wandered down the steps towards the bar. We all let our guards down until I had heard a breath intake and spun around, seeing a pretty blonde holding a rifle to the back of Dean's head.

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle." Dean said.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you." She quipped, cocking the gun. "Don't move."

He raised his hands in the air, "Not moving, copy that."

I slowly approached her, pressing my weapon to the back of her head, "You should know somethin', sweetheart." She stiffened, "When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy..."

Dean turned fluidly, grabbing the rifle from her and cocked it, "To do that." He finished with a cocky smirk, "and always stay aware of your surroundings." Without even hesitating, the girl punched him in the face, taking back the rifle with a smirk. I grimaced at the hit, watching Dean double over, clutching his nose. Then felt pain exploding in my stomach when the girl lashed out with the butt of the rifle, hitting me near my incision.

I fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, instantly curling my lower half into me while I gripped my gun in my hand.

"Drop the gun." She snapped.

I shook my head, "You first, Cheap Shot." I wheezed out, lying my forehead against my forearm for a minute until she kicked it out of my hands. I didn't budge from my spot, "You okay, Dean?" I called out from the floor, curling my hand into a fist.

"I can't see. I can't even see." He muttered, "I think she broke my nose."

"You poor thing." The girl deadpanned, "You had it coming." Dean scrunched his face into a glare when he saw me on the ground. He made a move forward, only for the girl to shoulder her rifle at him, "You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Sam!" shouted Dean, "Need some help in here!"

The back door slammed open to reveal Sam, both hands on his head, entering the room slowly, "Sorry, Dean," he replied. "I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up." Sam nodded his head, indicating another woman who was behind him with a handgun pointed at his hand. I saw the hardened expression on the woman's face soften to a puzzled expression.

"Sam?" she asked, "Dean? Winchester?"

Sam and Dean glanced to each other, confused. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch." She muttered, sounding miffed.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The younger woman asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." She replied, looking back over to me, "Which would make you Steven and Avery's girl, Abigail." She then lowered her gun, laughing. She let out a small, homey laugh—similar to what my mom used to have. Setting down her pistol, she introduced herself, "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo."

I lowered my head again as Jo lowered her rifle and Dean smiled tentatively at her.

"Hey." She said shortly. Dean took his hand off his nose to regard her.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" He questioned, only half-joking.

"Don't take her gun." I replied in a huff of air. Dean frowned, realizing that I was still in the floor. He kneeled down, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy…" I grimaced as I lifted my hand from over my stomach, seeing blood speckling my palm and shirt, "She got a cheap shot…" I muttered with a wry smile, nodding over to Jo. She shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. Dean didn't crack a smile, though he motioned her to help him get me to my feet. Grasping their arms, they pulled me up, only for me to lean against Dean, holding my stomach still with a pained wince.

"Next time, don't you let her hit me." He muttered in my ear, glancing to the blonde cautiously. I huffed out a laugh as he kept me close to him.

"Don't let her hit me in the gut." I countered, seeing his apologetic look. _It was better than his usual strong, silent, and observational looks._

"Ya'll take a seat," Ellen offered, gesturing to the bar, and looked over to Dean and me sympathetically, "I'll get you some ice to put on your nose, and I'll get something to patch you up, baby girl."

Dean casted a glance to me, bringing his hand up to his nose once more, before muttering, "Girl hits like Tyson." We climbed onto a set of stools—Sam on my left and Dean on my right—as I placed my hand on his shoulder. It was amusing how childlike he was being.

"Poor baby." I teased, trying to stave off the waves of pain and nausea. "Anything I can do to make it better?" I whispered in his ear. Dean's lips tipped into an amorous half-smile.

"What'd you have in mind?" he prompted.

I shrugged, "Your pick." Dean hummed in consideration.

"I'll get back to you on that one." He replied, kissing my temple lightly and scrunched his face to see if his nose was really broke. Dean still griped about his nose under his breath while Sam and I snickered. I had told him the play by play of our encounter with Jo, who was listening to us with a smug grin from the other side of the counter as she took out five empty glasses. Emerging from the back, Ellen approached Dean with a towel bunched up in her hand, while carrying a first aid kit.

She handed him the small towel filled with ice, "Here you go."

He tentatively placed the towel over his nose, wincing, "Thanks." He said, holding it to his nose while Ellen handed me the first aid kit. I peeled my shirt up to show my bleeding incision, earning grimaces from both Sam and Dean, as well as Ellen and Jo.

I ripped open an alcohol wipe, wincing when I gingerly started wiping away some of the dried blood away from my stomach. Dean picked up another packet, tearing it open as well. I hissed out a breath between my teeth when one of us went over an area that was bleeding.

"You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?" Dean asked as he dabbed away some blood.

"Well, the demon, of course." My eyes flitted up to her, "I heard he was closing in on it." She replied, looking to each of us.

Dean paused, straightening up to look at her. "What, was there an article in the _Demon Hunters Quarterly_ that I missed?" Dean quipped out of annoyance, "I mean, who-who are you? How do you know about all this?" I placed my hand on his knee from under the bar trying to calm him down. It worked for the most part because he clenched his jaw and bowed his head a little, sending me a quiet look. I opened another packet while he sifted through the kit until he pulled out an iodine wipe.

I hated the smell of iodine, but it kept stuff clean. So when I placed the spent alcohol pad with the pile of others, Dean leaned forward and pulled the hem of my jeans down so that he didn't get anything on my clothes.

Ellen held up her hands, defensively. "Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again." Ellen said, "Including your dad and parents a long time ago. "John, Steven, and Avery were like family once."

"How come I never heard them mention you before?" I asked jumping from the cold wipe touching my skin.

Ellen stepped back from the bar looking to me with a familiar apologetic look in her eyes, much like the one she had given Sam and Dean, "You'd have to ask John that." From beside me, I felt Dean's body stiffen at his father's name.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean spoke gruffly, quickly changing the touchy subject of John back to questioning about the demon. His eyes were focused on my incision in a scowl as he cleaned it with a gentle touch, lips forming a tight, thin line. Dean reached up to grab some bandages and some surgical tape. He opened the pack with his teeth, pulling them out and situated them before he placed four strips of the tape to hold it in place. His lips curved into a half-smile, glancing up to me, and patted the side of my leg tenderly, "Good as new." I smiled softly at him in thanks despite the dull ache I felt from Dean.

"Don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." Ellen stopped short, eyes widening upon realization, "He didn't send you." She breathed out. I felt Dean's hand grip mine as tightly while my other hand reached for Sam's, taking his in mine as well. Neither of us spoke.

Sorrow and guilt crushed me like a heavy weight as Dean looked down at the bar. I fidgeted in my spot at the amount of pain I was feeling, while Sam and Dean's hands remained in mine. It felt multiplied while actually touching them. I felt their sad eyes on me, "He's alright…isn't he?" Ellen asked.

"No." I answered, "No, he isn't." I worked my jaw oddly, "It was the demon, we think."

"It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess." Sam added with an attempt of a smile. It looked more like a grimace than anything.

Ellen regarded us sadly, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. We're alright." Dean said, answering for all of us.

Ellen stared at Dean disbelievingly, "Really? I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady, I'm fine." He told her brusquely.

I looked over at him calmly, too tired to really be curt with him, but alert enough to gently reinforce that he was being awfully rash, "Dean…" Frustrated hazel eyes stared back at me, then I heard him let out a breath of air.

"If you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam stepped in, giving Dean a warning glare.

"Well, we can't." Ellen said, exchanging a glance with Jo. I broke eye contact with Dean to look at Ellen with raised brows. _Well, that's a load of crap._ "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" She called out and we all turned to see the man that had been passed out on the pool table jerking awake and sat up, flailing around.

"What? It closin' time?" He asked.

I raised my brows at the dork, looking back to Ellen, "That's Ash?"

Jo smiled, "He's a genius."

A brown folder is slapped down on the bar while Sam and Ash sat. Dean and I were standing; Dean was standing directly behind him while I was squirming around from my incision itching me. Jo stood on the other side of the bar pouring glasses of water.

"You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius." Dean scoffed out. _Always the skeptic._ "He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Coming up behind Dean, I smacked him upside the head and he flinched, turning to look at me with an innocent, wide-eyed look. Jo pursed her lips at our interaction, and I sat down, leaving a stool open between Sam and I. "What was that for?"

"Guess." I deadpanned.

Ash laughed, sitting back on his stool, "I like you." He said, nodding appreciatively to Dean.

"Thanks." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.

"Just give him a chance." Jo said, setting a glass of water in front of me. I smiled in thanks, taking a sip as Dean finally settled down between us with a shrug, opening the folder.

"Alright. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it." Dean challenged, sliding the folder over to Ash, "Abigail's got a pretty good understanding of things like this since her parents were demon hunters and all, but she's been stumped."

Ash pulled out a few papers and started rifling through them, and shook his head, "Come on." He scoffed out, "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this." Dean, Sam, and I held smug looks regarding pride towards John's work.

"Our dad could." I said, defending John's method, "And I could, up to a point."

"There are nonparametric statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean…damn! They're signs, omens." That part I understood fairly easily, "Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms..." His voice trailed off, then leaned forward on the bar, staring me in the eyes with a serious expression, "You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" I asked him quietly, seeing a grin spread across his face.

Ash nodded, "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me..." Ash did the calculations in his head, bobbing it side to side a moment or two with closed eyes in a mental calculation, "Fifty one hours." He got up to leave, gathering everything, and walked toward the back room.

"Hey, man?" Dean said.

Ash stopped, looking to Dean with a grin, "Yeah."

"I, uh, I dig the haircut." He told him with a wink.

Ash's grin widened, "All business up front, party in the back." He said running his hand through his hair and flipped his mullet. I pursed my lips in amusement, then raised my brows in question when Jo passed by, sending Dean a flirty smile. Dean shrugged at me, brows raised as well.

He got up, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before heading to one of the empty tables. Just like that, he had gone back into the recesses of lone wolf hood. I frowned at that, feeling the gaping hole in my chest open back up. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked suddenly, spotting something from behind the bar.

Ellen turned, "It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we..."

Sam shook his head, "No, no, no, no. The, um, the folder."

"Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you want." Ellen said, picking up the folder and placed it in front of Sam. Curious, I got up from my stool and wandered over to him, seeing an array of newspaper clippings attached to the front with something written in red marker saying; _Couple Murdered. Child Left Alive. Medford, Wisconsin._

From beside the window, I saw Dean sit down near Jo as she wiped down tables and swept, "How did your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" I heard him ask.

Jo shrugged, "From my dad. He was a hunter." She replied, "He passed away."

"I'm sorry." Dean sympathized.

"It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad." She said.

Dean nodded, glancing across the room to where I sat, "Yeah. So. I guess we've got fifty one hours to waste…you guys wouldn't happen to have rooms here, would you?" I arched a brow at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Just wondering if there was a place for us to crash," Dean said with a small shrug.

Jo smirked, "You know, I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pickup line." Dean chuckled, clearly embarrassed and glanced over to meet my inquiring gaze. Usually, he'd be up and rearing to go for something like that, but today—all week—he'd been unusually reserved. Jo smirked at him, causing me to watch her closely. "Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some... pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV."

Dean smiled, "Well... what a bunch of scumbags."

Jo blinked, a little surprised at his response, "Not you?"

Dean shook his head with a little smirk, "I guess not."

I smiled knowingly to myself. He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was doing. I glanced down at my watch and frowned, "Hey, Sammy." Sam looked up from the papers, "I'm gonna call the hospital and check up on Meg."

"Okay." He replied, then looked over his shoulder to Dean, "Hey, Dean. Come here, check this out."

Dean looked over to the bar, "Yeah." I stood up, heading towards the door, meeting his curious gaze, "Where you going?"

I held up my phone, shaking it and saw him nod.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Roadhouse Saloon**_

I watched Abigail walk out of the bar pressing her phone up to her ear. She had to be going out of her mind by being away from Megan.

"Dean." Sam called out again, causing me to look at him.

"Dude, keep your panties on." I said getting up from the table to go look at what Sam had, "What you got?" I asked, coming up behind Sam and leaned over to look at the new set of documents that he and Abigail had been looking at.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of." Sam explained, "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?" I asked vaguely. I wasn't interested in all reality.

"So, I told her we'd check it out." Sam explained.

I stared at him for a beat, "You realize that Abigail is riding along solely because I told her we'd come here and go straight back to Bobby's right?" My brother's face steeled.

"Dean. I get it, Abigail isn't fit to hunt." He said, stuffing papers back into the folder, "I mean considering how she's been running herself ragged, I can understand her not coming along." I joined him on the stool to his left.

"What do you mean?" I inquired him.

Sam scoffed, "Dude, are you seriously that blind? Abigail has been running on fumes. She hasn't been to sleep in I don't know, two or three days?" My brows rose at his observation, "Maybe if you'd stop shoving your head under your car every once in a while, you could see what she's been doing to herself."

I ignored his comment about Baby, "And you got all of this how?"

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Sam quipped, "I've tried to talk to her, but I get the same response every time—"

"I'm fine." I finished in a high-pitched voice imitating Abs, seeing Sam's lips twitch out of dry humor, "Yeah, you can't tell she's been around us." I said sarcastically.

"This isn't funny, Dean." He chastised.

"I wasn't being funny." I countered.

Sam frowned, "Abigail's gonna end up being in worse shape that what she's already in."

"You don't think I know that?" Sam narrowed his eyes at me for a beat, "Aside from you telling me, that is." I hung my head and shook it, "I don't know whether she'll want to go or want to head back to Bobby's." Sam suddenly cleared his throat. I turned my head to look at him with furrowed brows. He motioned his head behind me.

"Go where?" Abigail's voice asked from behind. I twisted around to see Abigail looking at us with a skeptical expression.

"Oh, uh, how's, uh, how's Megan?" I asked her, immediately changing the subject. Abigail sidled in beside me, lifting her shoulders in a silent shrug. There was something about her posture…it was rigid-like. Abigail rubbed her face roughly with her hands and picked up her glass of water that she'd been nursing, allowing me to get a good look at her, and as much as it pained me, Sam was right.

Abigail looked awful. Black bags hung under her eyes seemingly contrasting against her ashen complexion. The left side of her face was slowly evening out with the rest of her skin due to the bruises healing up. Several places on her face had already healed, leaving light pink scars behind with freshly healed skin, and the only thing that was still truly healing was the gash she had on her forehead. I continued to watch her closely, seeing her eyes stay closed a second longer than usual became fairly evident that she was exhausted.

"She's doing, uh, fine." Abigail finally replied. I pressed my lips together to form a straight line upon hearing her voice slur, "Said that she's gained about two ounces today makin' her about two pounds _and_ three ounces now? And they put her on some, uh…some—" She let out an irritated breath, "If I could think straight, I swear…" She muttered, running her hand through her hair, "twenty-four calorie fortifiers…supposed to help her gain weight fairly quick."

That was good news on my daughter's behalf, however on Abigail's, she couldn't think straight. I glanced to Sam with a tight-lipped expression and saw a mutual look.. Abigail was definitely running on fumes. _How could I be so blind_? "You look like you need some sleep, Abs."

Turning tired eyes on me, she smiled forcibly, and waved her hand, "I'm fine, Dean. So, where are we goin'?"

"Uh, Sam found a case." Sam knitted his brows together in a withering glare.

Abigail's eyes lit up, "Oh? So, we're goin' to check out that series of murders up in Wisconsin."

I nodded, "Yeah, just to see if it's something worth our time." I said dismissively, "It probably isn't, though." I looked over at Sam, gesturing for him to help me out.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, definitely." Sam added with a short nod of his head, "You probably aren't interested in something like that."

Abigail stared at us for a beat, "We've looked into a lot less, guys."

I nodded, "You're absolutely right. We have—" Sam kicked my shin roughly and I grunted out, shooting my brother a glare. This obviously wasn't working out like I had hoped, "But, uh, maybe you should…" I tilted my head at her, "you know…sit this one out."

Abigail considered it for a moment before she stared at me with surly demeanor, "And people in hell want ice water, Dean."

"What?"

Her eyes bored into mine unwavering, "I thought we were statin' things that were never gonna happen." She deadpanned.

I glanced to Sam, taken aback at how quickly she was able to make a comeback, "Abs—"

"I heard you and Sammy talkin' about me when I walked back in." She accused, "What the hell?" Sam had hung his head, shame-faced like a little kid. I frowned at her guiltily feeling like I had betrayed her somehow.

"Abigail, we can explain." Sam said, giving her the puppy look. It had no effect on her whatsoever.

"No." She said firmly, "I told you two I was fine, and I meant it."

"We know how you are, Abs. You're not fine." I replied, agitated.

Abigail bristled at my words, "Are you callin' me a liar?"

I pursed my lips at her, "I ain't callin' you a truther." My shoulders hefted up in a shrug, "You may as well own up."

As stubborn as Abigail is, she rose to her feet with a glare that held hidden wrathful undertone. "I can't believe you two." Turning on her heels, she walked straight out of the Roadhouse, allowing the door to close loudly. I blew out an irritated sigh. _Here we go again._ I thought, knowing that she wasn't going to go far. It wasn't like she was just going to hotwire some vehicle and cut out. There wasn't any place to go and no vehicles—other than the junker van Bobby let us borrow—to hotwire.

"Well, that went smoothly." I said to my brother, voice thick with sarcasm.

Sam gave me a pinched look, "I'll go talk to her." He made a move to stand up, only for me to grab his arm. With knit brows, I could see that he was confused and concerned about her. It wasn't every day that she was pissed at him.

_Of course she wouldn't stay pissed at him long. They're inseparable_. That irritated me. "No, Sam. I will." I stood up, patting him on the shoulder twice in reassurance. Sam nodded, appearing to be a little surprised that I was going out there, sitting back down on his stool, "Just be ready to leave in five minutes." Making my way out of the establishment, I passed Jo—who gave me a curious look.

"Everything okay?" Jo asked.

"Yeah," I stated before I opened the door, and felt the warm evening breeze tickle at my nose. Annoyed with that, I scrubbed at my face with my hand. There was an unsettling feeling that sat in my gut just _knowing_ that there was a fight brewing once I found Abigail. It had always been like that.

I found her sitting at the back of the van with a dark scowl on her face, "You have a lotta nerve comin' out here." She muttered bitterly, acknowledging that I was there.

Remaining standing, my shoulders lifted as I took my hands out of my pockets, "Yeah, well, someone needed to come out here and talk some kind of sense into you." I quipped, folding my arms across my chest.

Abigail scoffed in sarcasm, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm—"

"_Fine_. Yeah, I heard that four times now." I stated catching her dirty looks and ignored them, "You're getting pissed off for no reason, Abs. Sam and I have a good reason to not let you go with us."

She let out a breathy laugh, "What the fuck ever, Dean."

"Stop being a goddamn princess, Abigail." My voice rose along with my temper, "Sam and I are just concerned about you."

Abigail rolled her eyes at me, "_Concerned_?" She questioned with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. I nodded my head, "Concerned…that's funny, 'cause the only concern I've seen _you_ show this past week is for the Impala."

"Oh, don't start." I said in a clipped tone.

"How 'bout this? Instead of havin' this pointless argument, why don't you and Sam go on ahead and leave me behind since I'm such a goddamned _burden_ to the two of you." She quipped, glaring at me with pursed lips.

"I never once said that to you," I snapped, growing angry at her accusations.

"Yeah. Well, you implied that I was back at Bobby's." Abigail said coolly, earning a cynical scoff to pass through my lips, and rolled my eyes at her. She was being a complete child!

"I said you were a _liability_, not a burden—big difference, sweetheart!" My voice raised further until it was borderline yelling.

Abigail shook her head at me watching what I did closely, and smirked, "Not to me there isn't."

"Abs, have you taken a look at yourself? When was the last time you actually slept?" Her eyes went to the ground as she worked her jaw oddly out of anger and kicked out her legs with some momentum, "Sam told me that it's been two or three _days_ since the last time you actually got some sleep."

Her head shot up, face twisting in anger. "Like you care!" She exclaimed, "You wouldn't have even known if he hadn't told you!"

Anger boiled in my veins. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You haven't given a rat's ass what Sam and I have done." She said pointedly, "From sun up to sundown you stay out of the house to avoid us—to avoid me," Her hand tapped her chest roughly, "—while you work on the car! The only time I've seen you acknowledge our existence is when we're at the NICU. Other than that, you're oblivious, like, we're not even there!"

"I haven't avoided you or Sam!" Abigail rolled her eyes at me, jumping to her feet and walked by me, shouldering past me roughly, and I turned with her, "The car needs fixed, and I fully intend on getting her back on the road, no matter the cost!" I argued. This was going nowhere, and Abigail was far from being calmed down. I noticed the red tone on her neck and chest knowing good and well that she was royally pissed off, and like a flick of a switch, her entire demeanor changed into sheer exhaustion. Her walls finally came crashing down while mine held up, firm and unyielding.

I saw how tired she truly was. She looked lost—scared, even—as she sucked in part of her cheek, chewing on it for a beat. "Does it ever occur that you're not the only one missin' Dad?" She asked softly, "He wasn't just yours and Sam's dad; he was mine too."

I scoffed, "Is this what this is about? Dad?" I questioned, "Well, here's a newsflash for you. I'm _fine_. Really. Now drop it and stop acting like a freaking two year old." In all honesty, I wasn't fine. I was nowhere near being fine.

Abigail let out another scoff, and this time it was soft and weary, "_Fine_." She said simply, flicking her hands out and slapped her thighs, "You're lyin', Dean, and I know that you are." Her chest heaved with the next breath she took, "And you know what? You're right." Her voice grew quieter…wearier as the seconds passed, "Dad's dead, and I—" She blew out a breath, "—and I know that, Dean. Just like my parents. Just like my brother and sisters." I saw her place a shaking hand over her mouth, bringing it down in a swift motion as she looked to the ground fighting off the tears that threatened to come out. "All I'm sayin' is that you can lie to yourself all you want, Dean. You can lie to Sammy all you want, and make him believe that you're all fine and dandy, but you can't lie to me. Just…talk to me. _Please_."

After a minute of heavy silence, her eyes bored into mine with a knowing look that had become very unsettling. "You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long." I rolled my eyes up to the evening sky, seeing several hues of purples, reds, and oranges splash across the horizon. Anything to avoid the truth coming from her mouth. "When they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me, cause you already look at me like I'm some dying animal." I hung my head with a clenched jaw. It felt like I had gotten punched in the gut, but the girl knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.

_If she only knew what we went through._ I brought my hand up to scrub any sign of emotion from my face, peering up to her imploring eyes. She wanted answers that I couldn't find the words to. There was none. Instead, like a dumbass, the only thing that vomited out was, "Are you done?"

There was a painful clench in my chest when a hurt look took hold in her eyes. I couldn't hardly believe I said that to her. With a clenched jaw, she merely nodded with a pained expression residing upon her face. I wanted this to be different. I mean, for crying out loud, we had a daughter together, and for me to cast her away like I just did—

"Yeah…I'm done." She muttered, letting a sliver of pink dart out from her mouth to moisten her lips. I mirrored it with my own when the doors to the Roadhouse opened.

"Is everything okay out here?" It was Ellen. "Your brother and I heard ya'll yelling and arguing, figured I'd come out and check up on you two."

Abigail's fortress instantly went back up and she nodded to the older woman, "Yeah, it's fine. He and Sam was just leavin'." Ellen glanced from her to me quickly, and folded her arms. I looked away guiltily.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here while they're gone." Ellen offered.

"I appreciate it," Abigail told her softly, "But…there wouldn't be any way for me to find a ride someplace to head back to South Dakota, would you? I'd like to get back to the NICU." My heart sank. As tired as she was, she didn't need to be driving six hours back. I looked to Ellen, hoping that she could see how incapacitated she was.

With an understanding smile, Ellen shook her head, "Not till in the morning, baby girl. Everything's closed for the night." Abigail's face fell, pursing her lips, and nodded. "Go on inside. I'll find you something to eat. You look like you're half-starved." Without another word, Abigail walked by me without another glance, disappearing into the Roadhouse. I deserved that. So I stood there in the parking lot, clenching my jaw out of spite that she had hit the nail on the head, once again.

Ellen stared at me for a long while causing me to shift uncomfortably, "It's not really any of my business, but Sam told me everything that's happened, and I can't say I don't blame that you and him are concerned for her. Especially with your little girl in the hospital—"

"Yeah. You're right. It's not any of your business." Ellen's eyes narrowed at me, "But don't think for a second that I don't care about Abigail."

"Well it looks like you two need some time apart." She stated, "And I believe that it's a good time to leave." As if on cue, Sam came out looking in at the Roadhouse, then back out to me genuinely confused. Licking my lips, I glanced between him and her, finally nodding in agreement.

"Let's go, Sam." I muttered, digging into my jacket pocket, pulling out the keys to the minivan. This job was definitely going to be different without her.

* * *

><p><strong>Next up-Everybody Loves a Clown (Part Two)!<strong>

**I seriously had no intention on making this longer than usual, but I just get writing and writing and writing until I wound up with almost _50 pages!_ So, I decided to half it out into two parts so it didn't bore you guys to death. I should have Part Two out in the next day or so. Just needing to add some finishing touches. Who knows? It may even be out later today!**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as giving suggestion as to what I wrote. So not all credit is going to me, but to her as well!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <em><span>Pain Redefined<span>_ by Disturbed.**

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><p><strong><span>curlystruggle<span>- I think everyone was expecting a little boy! I figured I would change it up for a surprise baby! Like Abigail said in _Bad Company_, Dean's gonna keep the entire male population away for the next thirty years!**

**Thegirlwhowaited24601- Thank you! I'm glad to know that you're enjoying it!**

**angelicedg- I know it! I was tearing up when I wrote some of the scenes, but the kicker was when Abigail lost it. _Ladysunshine6 _is a huge help and helped write that scene!**

**grapejuice101- I think everyone's glad the baby is safe! This is definitely going to be a game changer with a baby on board!**

**SassyGrl23- When I read it the first time, I teared up. **

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**giddyfan- You're very welcome! It didn't feel right doing something like that, and I have to agree with a lot of readers-killing off a baby was too common. To me, this just opens doors and brings on new challenges! **

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Yes, ma'am! Almost every fanfic that contains an OC having a baby girl (or boy), they always end up naming her/him Mary or John. I wanted to step away from the usual and do something different. Megan means 'strong and capable' while her middle name, _Daniella_, is the feminized version of Daniel-who in the Old Testament was in that ten of lions.**

**RebornRose1992- Thank you so much!**

**HellishFury- No, thank YOU. Your review was what I needed to read! This lets me know I'm doing something right! At least that rollercoaster is over with, right? **

**deangirlforever85- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**wideawakepastmidnight- Thank you so much! Writing out those chapters offered me _so many_ possibilities. Actually, Megan was a surprise! I was going for a boy and name him either Cody Bryant or Ajax Colt, but I changed my mind I think after _Route 666 _or earlier than that. I can't really remember where it was! haha. Glad you like it! (:**


	5. Everybody Loves a Clown (Part Two)

_Now and again we try_

_To just stay alive_

_Maybe we'll turn it all around_

_'Cause it's not too late_

_It's never too late_

_The world we knew_

_Won't come back_

_The time we've lost_

_Can't get back_

_The life we had_

_Won't be ours again_

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><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Highway—Night**_

It was dark, and pouring the rain. As Abigail said, _it was coming down like a cow pissing on a flat rock_. The first couple of hours on the road had been awkward and silent. Sam took his usual spot in the front seat while I stared ahead at the road engrossed in my thoughts. Abigail needed me, and I hadn't been there for her or for Sam. I didn't feel like I was there, at least, not all of me. I felt empty, scared about several things, and I didn't have the gall to level with her.

At some point, Sam had dug around the file that he got off Ellen, looking at several papers with a flashlight. I might've caught bits and pieces of what he said. From the research, it sounded interesting—right up our alley, "You've gotta be kidding me." I said with a scoff, "A killer clown?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents." His face twisted into a disgusted look, "Ripped them to pieces, actually." He added, showing me a photo of one of the victims' parents.

I grimaced, "And this family was at some carnival that night?"

"Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals." Sam replied, scanning over a document.

"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" I asked.

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around." Sam looked over at me, "Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

I smirked, "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be _clowns_?"

Sam groaned, "Oh, give me a break."

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you?" I laughed out, "I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

Sam scoffed, "Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders." My laughter ceased at the mention of Abigail's fear of spiders.

I pursed my lips at him, "Planes crash!" I defended, "and spiders _can_ kill!"

"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam smirked making his defense. We fell silent again. I found myself glancing up into the rearview mirror to see an empty backseat. Abigail wasn't there. Her laughter never joined ours, or making some smartass remark to Sam's little fear of clowns—she practically saved him every time he was at Plucky's.

Sam sensed what I was thinking, throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder as well, "Dude, call her."

I blinked, "What?"

"Call Abigail." He urged.

I snorted, "Yeah. I'm gonna jump right on that."

"I wonder what she's doing…" Sam sighed out, leaning his head against the headrest.

"Probably wishing I would fall over dead." I quipped, meeting his infamous bitchface. I shrugged at him dismissively, "Besides, she wouldn't answer me if I tried."

"Not if it was about Megan." My brother said.

I cleared my throat, "So, these types of murders, they ever happen before?" I asked, getting back to the case.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned on the flashlight to look down at a page, "Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."

"It's weird, though, I'm mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town." I pointed out.

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "Cursed object, maybe. Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them."

"Great." Sam muttered sarcastically, "Paranormal scavenger hunt."

"Well, this case was your idea." I said, glancing to him for a moment, "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Sam shrugged defensively, "So?"

"It's just... not like you, that's all." I said, "I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know," He said, "I feel bad that we had to leave Abigail behind…"

_Oh, you just don't know, Sammy._ I thought with a guarded expression.

"I just think, this job—it's what we needed besides sitting on our asses and worrying about Megan." I arched my brow at him, "I mean, she's doing better—a lot better." He added quickly, "But, it's not like she's gonna get out as small as she is. Besides," Sam shrugged, "Dad would have wanted us to do it." I arched my brow at him.

"What _Dad _would have wanted?" I quipped. _If Dad was here, then Abigail would've been here and Megan would still be _in_ Abigail._

Sam regarded me for a moment, "Yeah. So?"

I shook my head, "Nothin'."

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><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Cooper's Carnival-Day**_

Dean drove through the night until early morning when we pulled into the parking lot outside the carnival. It was mildly amusing each time we parked to see my brother grimace with annoyance at the van's loud squeal. We leaned forward to see the scene before us.

"Huh. Check it out. Five-oh." He said thoughtfully. There were a couple of detectives speaking to some of the carnies that were standing around.

"You just uh, stay put and I'll see what I can find out about these murders." He said, patting my shoulder, "Be sure to get an autograph from Bozo for me while I'm gone."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Eat me." Dean grinned at me as he fiddled with the door a moment, letting out an irritated growl when it finally opened, and he fell forward a second. I snickered at him when he straightened up outside the van, "Hey. Don't fall." Dean scrunched his face at me, raising his middle finger to me and I laughed.

I got out shortly after, pulling out my phone, and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on Abigail's number. Glancing up, I saw Dean conversing with the two agents before hitting dial.

"C'mon…c'mon." I breathed out when it started ringing.

"_This is Abigail's _other,_ other phone. You know what to do_." Her voicemail said and I sighed, hanging up. _That was about useful._ Then I dialed Ellen's number.

I pursed my lips, waiting as it began to ring. I needed to know how Abigail was doing.

"_Roadhouse Saloon,_" It was Ellen.

"Ellen. Hey, it's Sam…Winchester." I said.

"_Sam_? _You find anything out yet about those murders?_" She asked.

I glanced around, "Ah, no. Not yet. Dean's talking to a couple feds right now…How's Abigail?"

Ellen let out a sigh, "_I promised her I wouldn't breathe a word to you boys—she was pretty upset last night_."

I nodded, "Yeah, I could tell. Just, uh, just tell her I called to check up on her."

"_Well, I would, but you see, she cut and run sometime late last night. She's not here. I'd say she's on her way back to South Dakota to see her baby._" I furrowed my brows at that, growing silent. _This wasn't good_. "_Sam?"_

"Uh, yeah. I'm still here." I replied, "Thanks for letting me know._"_

"_No problem, ya'll take care._" She said, "_And Sam?_"

"Yeah, Ellen?" I asked.

"_If you see Abigail, let me know she's alright._"

"Of course." I said before she hung up. I closed the phone. _How the hell am I supposed to tell Dean this?_ I thought, stuffing it in my pocket, and looked up to see a three foot tall woman dressed in a clown outfit pass by. I felt my heart and breathing seize up after a pang of fear coursed through me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, feeling utterly nervous. When she realized that I had been staring, she paused to stare back, causing me to fidget in my spot nervously. After a moment, she started back walking, and smirked.

_That's not embarrassing at all_. I thought, watching her go.

"Did you get her number?" Dean's voice asked, approaching me with a smug look.

I narrowed my eyes at him in a scowl, "More murders?"

Dean looked after the tiny clown with a smirk, "Two more last night." He shook his head, "Apparently they were ripped to shred. And they had a little boy with them..."

I grimaced, "Who fingered a clown." Dean furrowed his brows at me with a weird look, "What?"

"Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air." He said, looking back to the carnival.

"Dean, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything." I muttered, glancing around as well, "Abigail could figure this out in no time."

Dean rolled his eyes at me, seeming uncomfortable when I brought her up. "Yeah. Well, she's not here, is she?" He said dryly, "If there is a cursed object, then it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to go old school and scan everything."

I glowered at him for a beat, "Oh, good, that's nice and... _inconspicuous_." Sarcasm was laced into every word I spoke until I realized that Dean was staring at something.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in." Dean said, looking back to me from seeing a _Help Wanted_ poster.

_Joy._ I mused in my head as we headed toward a nearby tent. Inside, we saw a man throwing knives at a target; each knife landing near but not quite on bulls-eye.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?" Dean asked and his smile dropped when the man turned, wearing a pair of too-dark sunglasses—similar to that faith healer's. I swallowed.

"What is that, some kind of joke?" The man snapped, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal pale blue irises—he was blind.

"Oh God. I'm—I'm sorry." Dean stuttered out as he stumbled over his words.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?" The old man continued to rant causing Dean to look back at me, alarmed.

"Wanna give me a little help here?" He muttered.

I smirked, "Not really."

"Hey Barry," a man cut in, "is there a problem?" Dean turned, then looked down to see an extremely short man in a red cape.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people." The man informed him.

Dean turned back around fumbling over his own words, "No, I don't, I..."

"Hey buddy, what's your problem?" The dwarf demanded, shaking his staff at Dean threateningly.

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding—" He started.

"_Little_?! You son of a bitch!" I pursed my lips upon seeing Dean in absolute shock at the animosity he was receiving.

"No, no, no! I'm just—could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is? Please?" Dean finished trying to hold off to their attack. I couldn't help but laugh at how uncomfortable it was for him already. His face sagged in relief when they led us to Cooper's tent.

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up." Mr. Cooper greeted us, offering two chairs in front of his desk, "Take a seat." Dean and I looked to the available chairs—one is normal and the other…was pink and had a giant clown face on it. I moved toward the normal chair, however, Dean beat me to it, grinning up at me. I glared at him and glanced to the clown chair, fidgeting a little before I sat gingerly in the chair. "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first." He explained, "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

I nodded, "Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas."

"Doing what? Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men?" Mr. Cooper questioned, staring at me intently.

I squirmed under his gaze, laughing nervously, "Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

"You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?" He deadpanned.

"Nope." Dean admitted, shamelessly, "But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady." Dean started to laugh until he met my withering gaze, and stopped.

Mr. Cooper pointed to a picture that hung on the wall, "You see that picture? That's my daddy."

We looked to the picture. It was uncanny at how close they looked, a little too close in my opinion. "You look just like him." I said.

"He was in the business. Ran a freak show. Till they outlawed them—most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified." Mr. Cooper added, "So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress. I guess." He shrugged, "You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular."

Despite the scoff that my brother let out, I couldn't help but notice him shift in his seat at that. He looked guilty and uncomfortable, getting ready to open his mouth.

I leaned forward, "Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this." Mr. Cooper simply nodded his head.

Dean stared at me for a moment as we left his tent, "Huh."

"What?" I asked.

"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing." He said, "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?" I fell silent, considering what I had just said, "Sam?"

I shrugged at him, "I don't know." I admitted. Everything was difficult. I mean, I wanted to go back to school, have a life and a family, but then again…there was Dean and Abigail—the family business and my niece.

Dean blinked before his face scrunched in disbelief, "You don't know?" He deadpanned, "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

"I'm having second thoughts." I admitted.

"Really?" His voice had an undertone of excitement.

"Yeah. I think." I said, "Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

Dean's face dropped into an expression of frustration and annoyance, "Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

I furrowed my brows at him, "Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?"

Dean scoffed, "Naw, I don't have a problem at all. It'll be Abigail that'll have the coronary when you tell her."

My eyes drifted to the tops of the tents that surrounded us, "Yeah. Well, I don't think it's gonna matter what she thinks." Dean rose his brows at me, imploring. Luckily, I caught myself before I had let it slip out that Abigail had left, and I shook my head, "Never mind." I muttered.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**NICU—Day**_

My days had started to blur together. It was a wonder how I managed to get back to the hospital without wrecking the motorcycle I jacked from a different bar. Nothing against Ellen and Jo's hospitality, I just needed to get back to my daughter. I had been away from her too long.

I spent three minutes washing my hands in near scalding water, half-tempted to just crawl in the enormous sink and just soak until there was nothing left of me. What I really needed was something to wake me up. At this point, it didn't matter to me what it was. It could've been a shower, a large cup of coffee, some kind of energy drink, hell…an upper.

I scrubbed my face roughly to wake me up. _Hell no_. _Not again._ I wasn't about to go down that road again. I had too much to lose. A yawn wracked through me when I came into Megan's room, seeing Ashley in there with her. She smiled at me like she always done.

"Hi Abigail." She greeted as I walked in.

I smiled tiredly, "Hey. How's she been?"

Ashley looked over to the incubator, "She's doing real good—lost an ounce last night, but I think she's gonna make up for it today. You've got a hungry little girl." I moved from the door in a sluggish manner to peer into the incubator at my daughter, smiling at her. She had managed to wiggle her blanket loose, poking a tiny foot out of it as she kicked her legs out simultaneously. Her eyes were open a smidge, peering out from behind her lids. To be a two week old micro-preemie, she was pretty alert about her surroundings. _Much like her dad._ I frowned as the little blurb popped into my mind, then felt a pang of guilt; only to shove it down for the moment.

I wasn't going to wallow in my misery around my daughter. She didn't deserve it. I also shoved down the constant nagging of sleep, forcing myself to gain my bearings so that I could spend _some_ time with her. Fourteen hours without seeing Megan seemed like a lifetime, and needless to say, my boobs were feeling it. Sitting in the recliner, I sat back with Megan's tiny form in my arms, skin to skin while she nursed in a state of content. The feelings I was getting from her were of contentment and love, therefore I was able to relax into the chair.

In her room, there were several photos and little things that each of us had brought, leaving for her to always know that apart of us was here with her. I left my mother's rosary hanging beside the whiteboard with an image of Dean and I holding Megan in our hands; her head and upper body in his, while I held her butt and legs. She was so tiny in our hands.

There was another image of Sam holding Megan…it had been the first time that he ever got to hold her and his face was priceless. Dean practically forced him to hold her and I managed to get the picture at the right time. His expression was of sheer bewilderment, fear, and love mashed up into one emotion. Definitely one of the best photos of Sam I had.

And finally, there was a photograph of just Dean and Megan. His eyes were bright and child-like, filled with excitement. There was tenderness and love in his gaze, grinning from ear to ear as ran his finger along her tiny foot. It was very evident that he loved her with his heart and soul.

Glancing to the clock, I realized that five minutes had passed by while I was engrossed in my thoughts. I gently took my daughter from my breast, hearing her whimpers of protest and laughed, seeing a fine sheen of milk coat her chin. I leaned forward taking the edge of her blanket and dabbed away her little mess, "You're definitely a child of Dean Winchester." I told her softly after she let out another whimper. I sat her forward, securing her in my hands and patted her back a few times.

"I know you don't exactly understand me right now but you will in time," I murmured, rubbing up and down her tiny back, "Just know that your daddy and I love you very much, and you should know that him and me don't always get along…that we're gonna end up fightin' over somethin'. Always know that it will _never_ be because of you or anythin' of the sorts. That's just somethin' that grown-ups do."

When she let out a satisfying burp, I grinned at her tiredly, brushing my fingertips against the side of her face as I let her snuggle back up against my breast, "You have more of your daddy than you do of me, little woman. Always ready to eat, hates somethin' coverin' your feet when you sleep, and you've always got one eye open." Megan's hands curled up under her while I watched her nurse quietly, "I just—I just wished I coulda done somethin' about keepin' you in my belly a little longer…that's all."

I looked up to the ceiling to avoid a fresh batch of tears from coming out, "Please know that I did the best I could. Your mommy's had some problems growin' up, but she's doin' the best she can to make it better for you." I took the back of my hand to wipe away a stray tear, "I can't help but feel guilty about everythin'. Your papaw John…Lord, he loved you. He was _so_ proud of you, Megan." I took a deep, calm breath to control myself, "I'm gonna do my best to keep you out of this life—let you grow up like a kid should."

It wasn't long that Megan had passed out, drunk on boob milk. Before I set her in her incubator, I gently kissed her forehead, "I'll be right here when you wake up." I whispered, setting my sleeping daughter onto a little makeshift blanket that I had made for her out of my dad's old Johnny Cash shirt. Closing and securing the door, I held my hand a second longer before I walked out of the NICU. My legs felt like Jell-O as I ventured into the waiting room, upon coming across some chairs, I practically fell into one of them.

Working my jaw oddly, my eyelids felt like they had a hundred pound sandbag weighing them down, and were growing heavier when I pulled my phone out, just holding it in my hands. Leaned over, I scrolled through my contacts, staying on Dean's number for a long while until I shook my head, deciding against calling him. I mean, I wanted to call Dean, but I couldn't. I knew that I had to be the last person he wanted to speak to, let alone the fact he was hiding something from me. I pocketed the phone with a frown, leaning back into the chair. I winced at the pull on my incision, remembering that it was still healing.

I rolled my eyes at myself. _Why did Dean have to look at me like I was some dying animal?_ I blinked, only waking up to vibrating against my hip. I reached into my pocket tiredly for my phone, and realized Sam was calling me. I frowned. I couldn't talk to him because I knew he'd tell Dean, or he'd snatch the phone away from him like he always done. Then I'd be in bigger trouble that before—not that I cared or anything.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Cooper's Carnival—Day**_

Sam and I decided to split up. I took grounds while he took the funhouse, you know, to keep him on his toes. The both of us got these stupid, bright orange looking uniforms that said, _Cooper's Carnival_. I seriously looked like a walking tangerine. Between picking up trash and scanning my EMF meter, I often mistook several blondes for Abigail by just glancing at them real quick.

To be honest, there wasn't a place I would rather be other than being with her and my daughter right about now. Instead, I was out at some carnival, almost getting jumped _not_ once, but _twice_ by two pissed off midgets and a blind knife thrower. These people here were touchy over _little_ things.

I snorted out in amusement as I dumped a bag of trash into a dumpster. I had to admit, Sam did make a point. If Abigail had went with us, she probably would've made quick work at finding this cursed object. Taking a break from picking up other people's trash, I pulled my cellphone out, glancing to the screen. I frowned, seeing that I had no missed calls.

I_ screwed the pooch on this one_. I thought bitterly, scrolling through my contacts and held my place on Abigail's number. Tapping my thumb lightly against the 'Select' button, I decided against it. There was no way that she was going to answer the phone. Not after what I did to her, and I didn't blame her. Her words burned into my brain, hearing the hurt and betrayal in her voice. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just let her come with us in the shape she was in, and if it wasn't for Sam...I wouldn't have known.

Hanging my head, I chewed on the inside of my cheek, realizing that I had done everything I told her I didn't. She didn't deserve an asshat like me.

No sooner I had pocketed my cellphone, it started to ring. Quickly, I picked it back up, "Hello?" _That didn't sound desperate at all_.

"_Hey, man_." It was Sam. I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. _Of course it was you're your brother, stupid!_

"What's the matter?" I asked after I cleared my throat, "You sound like you just saw a clown."

"_Very funny_." Sam said, causing me to chuckle. "_Skeleton, actually_."

"Like a real human skeleton?" I asked, forcing my head to go back into business mode. I'd deal with everything else later.

"_In the funhouse_." My brother explained. _Oh, how ironic was that_? I thought. "_Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object - what if it's attached to its own remains_?"

"Did the bones give off EMF?" I headed toward the funhouse.

"Well, no, but –"

"We should check it out anyway. I'm heading to you." I told him, hanging up the phone until someone grabbed my arm. I jerked around, bewildered to see that it was Barry, the Blind Man who liked pointy objects.

"What are you doing here, kid?" He questioned with suspicion coating his words.

I grinned sheepishly, "I'm... I was just sweeping."

"Bull." Barry called me out. "And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

I couldn't help but be impressed with this old man's hearing. The damn guy had Vulcan hearing, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control." I told him.

"We're a tight-knit group." Barry told me, "We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems."

"We got a problem?" I questioned him.

Barry was silent for a moment, "You tell me - you're the one talking about human bones."

_Touché._ "Do you believe in ghosts?" I finally asked.

Barry's face twisted into a look of confusion, "What?"

"My brother and me... umm. We're writing a book about them; mystery novel if you want to call it." I said quickly, trying to cover my ass, "You know spirits, monsters—all things that go bump in the night. My girlfriend, she's back home…she's the writer, we're just the guinea pigs." I shifted, looking over my shoulder for a moment. I went on to proceed in telling the old man an urban legend about some homicidal phantom clown, elaborating some details.

Considering my words, Barry nodded, "Oh. Why didn't you just say so? Good luck with it." He patted my shoulder twice before he turned and walked off. Watching that he was _way _far off, I blew out a sigh of relief and high-tailed it to a place near the funhouse. Sam looked impatient.

"What took you so long?" My brother asked.

I held my hand up, "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" Sam and I both looked over to see a little girl pointing at an area between two trailers.

"What clown?" I heard her mother ask. She looked in the same direction as her daughter's finger pointed to, but didn't see anything, "Come on, sweetie, come on."

I looked over to Sam, giving him an awkward look. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that this family's life was in jeopardy tonight.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Family's Home—Night**_

"Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam chastised.

I shrugged at him, "I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real." I took my gun out, cocking it. Before I could do anything, Sam's hand shot out, pushing my hands and the gun down.

"Keep that down!" Sam hissed.

"Oh, and get this," I added, totally ignoring his dirty look, "I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what."

Sam's brows rose, "What?" He implored.

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager." I explained while Sam kept his attention on the house.

"So you think whatever the spirit is attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked.

"Something like that." I stated, shaking my head with a sigh, "I can't believe we keep talking about clowns." This was definitely going on our 'weirder than normal jobs' list. It wasn't every day we had to gank some phantom clown. I yawned, crossing my arms across my chest before I dozed off.

I startled awake feeling Sam shake me awake. I glared at him, until he pointed to a light on in the dining room. Rubbing my eyes, I blinked a few times to see a girl opening the front door and held out her hand.

_What the hell?_ Sam and I got out of the van in record time where we headed to the back of the house undetected, and slipped in through the window, again, undetected. Glancing to Sam, he nodded taking position against a wall in order to grab the girl while I blasted this clown back to wherever the hell it came from. This hit way too close to home for me.

Hearing the soft steps of the girl come through the hallway, I leaned over to see where they were at, "Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs." She asked quietly. I nodded to Sam, who leapt out and grabbed the girl, in which, she began screaming while I stepped out and shot the clown in the chest. It fell on its back before getting up while I cocked the shotgun again.

"Sam, watch out!" Sam's head shot up just in time as the clown advanced toward him, and leapt out of the window, becoming invisible as it ran away. Then we were left with a screaming little girl, and of course, the parents.

"What's going on here? Get away from my—" Her father demanded.

"Oh my god, what are you doing to my daughter?!" The girl's mother exclaimed.

"Who the hell are you? Get out! Get out of my house!" The girl's father yelled out. He didn't have to tell us twice. Sam released the girl while we sprinted out of that house and to the van, where I didn't give Sam the chance to fully get in. We sped off, driving the van as far as we could to ensure that nothing was following behind.

It was sometime in the morning that I had decided that we were far away enough, digging out the rest of our stuff—including the license plates.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam questioned as I shouldered my duffle bag.

"I don't wanna take the chance." I told him, slamming down the trunk, "Besides, I hate this fucking thing anyway." Sam and I walked about a mile or so down the road, "Well, one thing's for sure."

"What's that?" Sam prompted.

"We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid." I said.

"Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam suggested.

I nodded, "Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?"

Sam shook his head, mind wandering elsewhere. I raised a brow at him when he cleared his throat, pulling out his cellphone.

"Who are you calling?" I prompted.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. If not, then I'll call Abigail." Sam offered, "Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way." I denied.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" I shrugged, not really caring if I knew the answer to that question or not.

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out." It had to be something considering the voicemail.

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?" Nodding casually, Sam lowered the phone, "Well, don't get all Maudlin on me, man."

My eyes went from the road to my brother in a sharp look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this "strong silent" thing of yours, its crap." Sam said.

I groaned, "Oh, god."

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you and Abigail felt about the man." He pressed.

I turned to him, annoyed. "Great. I get it from Abigail, now I gotta hear it from you? You know what—back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you and Abs want me to—"

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean." I inclined my head at my brother, looking at him for a moment before I rolled my eyes and stared ahead at me. "I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, alright? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, _okay_?" I snapped as my voice became louder with aggravation, "I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!" I stopped walking, turning to stare at Sam with narrowed eyes.

Sam furrowed his brows, "What are you talking about?" He asked, confused.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, _oh, what would Dad want me to do_?" I watched him draw his brows together at my words, "Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you—you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't—it's too little, too late." In the timeframe that my words left my mouth, another round of Abigail's words replayed in my head.

_You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long._ I ground my teeth at Abigail's words, ignoring the fact that Sam was staring at me, stunned; w_hen they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me._

Sam's eyes teared up, "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death!" I shouted, "Are you?"

Clearly upset, Sam swallowed, "I'm going to call Ellen." He said quietly in a hushed tone, walking ahead of me while I stayed back. I ran my hands through my hair, blowing out a heated sigh as I closed my eyes.

_I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise._

I inhaled deeply, trying to force down the echoing series of thumps that haunted me in my sleep. _Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it…Time of death: 10:41 AM._

"Bastard." I muttered out in a scoff, clenching my jaw. Looking up, I noticed that Sam was thirty yards ahead of me and still going strong.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Further Down the Road—Day**_

"_Did Abigail ever call you?_" Ellen asked.

I blew out a sigh, "No. I've not heard from her since we left the Roadhouse." Ellen sounded deeply worried about her, hell, I was too, "Ellen, if Abigail went anywhere, it'd be back to the hospital to be with Megan."

"_I figured that's where she'd go,_" came her reply, "_She was awfully tore up about her and Dean's argument, that's for sure._"

"Yeah, I know how that story goes." I muttered, glancing over my shoulder to see Dean trailing behind me with his normal, guarded look. He still had no clue that Abigail had gone AWOL. As he approached me, I needed a way to tell him. "Thanks a lot for helping though."

"_No problem._" I hung up, barely looking to my brother.

"Rakshasa." I said.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Ellen's best guess." I explained, "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in." Dean said frowning.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?" He asked, looking puzzled.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" I suggested. Dean inclined his head, falling into step with me.

"What else'd you find out?" He prompted.

_Other than Abigail missing?_ "Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

Dean grimaced, "Nice."

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81." Dean pieced together, inclining his head.

"Right." I agreed, "Probably more before that."

"Hey Sam, who do we know that worked both shows?" Dean asked.

"Cooper?" I answered.

Dean nodded, "Cooper."

"You know, that picture of his father that looked just like him." I offered.

"You think maybe it was him?" The thought of that chilled me.

"Well, who knows how old he is?" I said.

"Ellen say how to kill him?" He asked, turning his head to look at me.

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass." I answered.

Dean nodded, thinking of something, "I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." I pointed out.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy." Dean said teasingly. For a brief second, we shared a laugh, "Alright, I'll round up the blade, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs." Still walking, silence fell between us, and Dean glanced over to me as if he was going to say something.

"What?" I asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nothing."

I knitted my brows, "What?"

"It's stupid." He muttered.

"You were going to ask if I spoke to Abigail, weren't you?" I asked, seeing his guarded look before he nodded. _Moment of truth_. "I haven't…and, neither has Ellen." I breathed out, seeing his face scrunch in confusion.

"What do you mean, Ellen hasn't?" he asked, pausing, "Abs is supposed to be there."

I walked ahead a good fifteen feet before I turned to face him, "Abigail isn't there at the Roadhouse. She left sometime after we left—" I shook my head, "And she's not heard from her, neither have I. I've called her phone a hundred times at least, and all I get is her voicemail."

Dean blinked, his demeanor changing in a blink of an eye, and briefly…oh so briefly, I could've sworn I saw a flicker of emotion fall upon his face. Something like painful realization, "So, you're tellin' me that Abs…cut and run?" He asked softly.

I shook my head, "No, Dean. I'm not saying she _left_. I have a hunch that she's either at Bobby's or at the NICU with Megan." I moved to my brother, and placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance, "Trust me, she's not gonna be far from your all's kid."

Dean nodded, working his jaw oddly as he glanced everywhere else but me. He was worried, or maybe even infuriated. I couldn't really tell, "Okay. Alright." He said, licking the corner of his mouth before he smirked, "Well, let's get to it."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Bobby's House—Night**_

After spending the entire day with Megan, I finally drug myself up to Bobby's front door just as the sun sank below the horizon. I knocked on the door loudly, waiting for the gruff man to answer it.

"_For the millionth time, Dean, if I see her, I'll have her call ya_." Bobby said from somewhere inside the house, "_Yeah, yeah._ _See you sometime tomorrow_." A small beep sounded, "_Idjits._"

I rolled my eyes, instantly knowing that this was going to be a joyous welcoming committee. Bobby's heavy footfalls came closer, then swung the door open. I waved half-assed to him, watching as he glanced to the phone, then back to me, "Balls!"

"Hey, Bobby." I said tiredly.

"Where have you been?" He demanded, stepping to the side to let me in.

I ran my hand through my hair, "I've been with my daughter, where else?"

"For a day and a half?" He prompted, following me through the house until we were in his kitchen. I went to the fridge, opening it to get a beer. I looked to him holding one up, and he nodded, despite the sour look on his face, "Do you realize what I had to endure for the past five minutes?"

Handing him the beer, I popped the cap off, lazily tossing it into the trashcan before I took a swig. "Yes, and I could personally care less what the pompous dickbutt has to say." Bobby blinked, growing suspicious about my behavior.

"You and him get into it?" He asked.

I inclined my head at him, "Why else would I be here and not with them?"

Bobby whistled, "_Them?_ Sam and Dean both. That's a doozy."

I shrugged, "It was just as much as me, as it was them…but what can I say? I just have that effect on people."

"Ah, it ain't you." Bobby said, "Look who raised you three." I inclined my head, heading to the living room where I sat down on the couch, taking another long swallow of beer until I basically had chugged it dry, and set it on the table in front of me. Bobby was moving around the room, going into detail of what Dean had told him…only, I didn't listen and focused on how _comfortable_ this couch was.

With my legs curled underneath me, I propped my head up on my knuckles watching whatever Bobby had on the television. It looked like _Lonesome Dove_. Tommy Lee Jones and Robert Duvall confirmed my hunch. The last thing I fully remembered was feeling something being draped over me before I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Cooper's Carnival**_

_**Cooper's Trailer—Night**_

Night had fallen by the time Dean and I had come back to the carnival, waiting for the last string of people to leave and the staff to turn out their lights. Dean went off to find a bronze knife, while I had the duty of looking for evidence that Cooper was our Rakshasa. I glanced over my shoulder as I picked the lock to his trailer, and stepped inside.

Within the trailer, it seemed empty. Not a sign of anything out of the ordinary. Pulling out my pocket knife, I pulled up the covers to slice open the mattress in search of dead bugs until a gun cocked behind me. I looked up, alarmed, to see Cooper pointing a shotgun at me.

_Shit._

"What do you think you're doing?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Barry's Trailer—Night**_

"Well, I've got all kinds of knives." Barry said leading me into his trailer, "I don't know if I've got a brass one, though." I stood back watching as the old man tapped a trunk with his cane, "Check the trunk." He offered.

Kneeling, I opened the trunk and felt my blood run cold. In front of me was a red clown wig, _exactly_ like our psycho killer clown. I stood up, turning to him, "You?"

Barry dropped his cane, pulled off his glasses; his eyes looked normal. "Me." He said with a smirk, while his eyes got cloudy again shortly before his face began to melt. With a wave, Barry disappeared Cheshire-cat style, and the last thing remaining was his eyes. Then they disappeared.

_Shit. _I turned to face trailer door, and fumbled with the knob. The damn thing wouldn't budge! A knife shot out of nowhere, flying past my head and buried itself in the door. I jumped about a foot after another one landed with a _thunk_, a little higher than the last.

"Alright!" I yelled out, finally managing to get the door opened, and booked it out of there, tumbling out of the trailer. I didn't just stop running when I came out of that trailer, I kept going until someone yelled out.

"Hey!" It was Sam.

I skidded to a stop, turning to my brother, "Hey." I greeted him when he ran up to me.

"So, Cooper thinks I'm a Peeping Tom, but it's not him." He said out of breath.

I nodded, "Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy." I looked around us warily, "He's here somewhere."

"Well, did you get the – " Sam began to ask.

"The brass blades? No." I interrupted him, "It's just been one of those days."

Sam thought of a second, then like a bulb had went off in his head, he looked towards the funhouse, "I got an idea. Come on."

Entering the funhouse, Sam was ahead of me until a door slammed between us.

"Sam!" I yelled out slamming my shoulder against the door.

"Dean!" Sam yelled out from the other side of the door, "Dean, find the maze, okay?" I looked around, finding a passageway and went through it. Apparently this was the maze Sam was talking about. I wound up at so many dead ends, I was about fed up with this damn thing until I spotted Sam once I came around a corner.

"Hey." I said, relieved, as I walked up to him.

"Hey!" He said, holding a brass pipe, "Where is it?"

"I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?" I asked, turning to look around. A knife suddenly flew past me, pinning my sleeve to the wall, another one pinning my wrist. Cursing, I tried pulling the knives out, only to see that they were embedding into the wall all the way to the hilt. I looked over at Sam, who was still trying to pry the pipe out. "Sam!"

Just as he pulled the pipe all the way off, a knife flew past his head, dodging it, "Dean, where is he?" He called out, stalking forward slowly.

"I don't know!" I reached up and pulled a lever; more steam poured out from the pipe organ. Maybe it would offer me more of an advantage, then noticed a vague shape wandering in the steam behind my brother. "Sam, behind you! Behind you!" I called out.

Years and years of Dad's drilling paid off as Sam reacted instantly jabbing the pipe behind him without looking. Turning, he saw the pipe buried into an object—the unseen Rakshasa—watching blood pour from the wound. I pried both knives out from my sleeve, then pulled the lever. Once the smoke had cleared, the both of us looked to the floor where a set of empty clothes and a bloodied pipe laid to attest that there was ever anything.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Roadhouse—Morning**_

It had been a long night considering what we had been through. To be more exact, it had been a long week. In short, nobody was throwing knives at us, so I guess I can say that was better than anything at the moment. Ellen sat two beers down in front of us.

"You boys did a hell of a job. Your dad'd be proud." She said with a smile.

I smiled back at her, "Thanks." Jo, who had been sitting on the other side of Dean, had been staring me down with a not-so-subtle look to leave. I cleared my throat, avoiding her pointed stare, "Oh yeah, um, I've gotta... uh, uh, I've gotta go." I said quickly, earning an amused look from Dean as I pointed to the jukebox, "Over there. Right now. "

I crossed the room over to the jukebox hearing Jo clear her throat. I glanced over my shoulder at her, then looked to Dean.

"So." She said.

"So." Dean replied with a nod to her.

"Am I gonna see you again?" Jo asked him.

Dean chuckled, amused. "Do you want to?" I furrowed my brows at him seemingly confused at where this conversation was going. There was a million different ways that I could think of and the majority was bad.

_Quit eavesdropping_.

"I wouldn't hate it." Jo answered with a smile in her voice. Throwing another tentative look, I noticed Ellen doing about the same thing I was—listening more than ignoring.

_So, I wasn't the only one._ I smirked at that. _Had Abigail been here, she'd be doing the same thing we are._

Dean hummed thoughtfully at her, "Can I be honest with you?" He asked, "See, a few years ago, I'd be hitting on you so fast it'd make your head spin." He made a sound similar to him clearing his throat, "But, uh, these days…" I heard the hesitation in his voice, causing me to turn slightly out of curiosity, "I'm involved, and I just had a kid."

I met Ellen's approving look and grinned a little. I seriously didn't need to worry myself over my brother's relationship with Abigail. Jo didn't miss our looks, judging by the scowls she gave both her mother and I, she seemed a little perplexed.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Jo asked.

"Abigail." My brother's voice held a smile in his words, "Gave me the most beautiful daughter three weeks ago."

Jo furrowed her brows, glancing from me back to Dean almost bewildered, "Wait..isn't she-?"

"Adopted." I added with a sad undertone in my voice, taking a seat back at the bar. "Demon killed her family, our Dad took her in. Been with us ever since."

Dean looked at me from the corner of his eye while I spoke, chewing on this inside of his mouth, "Wouldn't have it any other way…" Jo made something like that of a scoff, turning fresh eyes on Dean. Despite the guarded expression his face held, there was a glimmer of deep affection and guilt hidden in his eyes. _He loved his girls_.

Ellen cleaned an empty glass, nodding, "Steven and Avery were some damn good people." She added, "From what I remember of them, they were always helping out in some way. Steven was the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back. Avery—," Ellen let out a low whistle, "the girl had spunk to her. Could start a fight in an empty room, but she had a heart of gold. The two of them were basically inseparable."

"How-how do you know so much about her parents?" I asked, earning a similar gaze from Dean.

"Bill knew them through demon hunting—they were well-known in the hunting community. Often sought to on different jobs." She explained, "I used to be real close Avery, watched Abigail a lot when they went on trips. According to Bill, Steven was damn good reciting an exorcism from memory." Dean's mouth twitched into a knowing smirk.

_Meg_. I thought, "Sounds like he drilled Abigail into knowing things like that." I mused.

Ellen looked over to me, "Oh?"

My brother gave me a pointed look that essentially told me not to go there. "There was this, uh, demon. Abigail blew through an exorcism ritual like it was lyrics to a Johnny Cash song."

Ellen nodded approvingly, "Then her daddy taught her well." Dean nodded in silence, pressing his bottle of beer to his lips and took a drink. The back door opened and Ash sashayed through, carrying our dad's folder and what looked like a bizarre laptop.

"Where you guys been? Been waitin' for ya." Ash asked, then looked around confused, "I thought there were three of you. Blonde, beautiful, and southern?"

Dean raised his brow at the description of Abigail, not too amused. I laughed, "She went to be with her daughter in the hospital." I explained, "We were working a job, Ash. Clowns?"

Ash furrowed his brows, "Clowns? What the –"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted. Ash set the laptop down on a table. It looked like something he had made himself, wires were exposed.

I leaned in to take a better look at the laptop, "Did you find the demon?"

"It's nowhere around." Ash replied, "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie." My brow rose at that. _Okay._

"What do you mean?" I asked, throwing a shrug to Dean when he scrunched his face at me.

"I mean," He said turning the laptop towards us, "any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm."

Being the little kid he very much needed to be, Dean reached out to touch the laptop, "Do you mind..." Ash gave him a dirty look while he shrank his hand back from the keyboard.

"What's up, man?" He said, getting defensive about his invention.

I huffed out a laugh, clearly amazed by his work, "Ash, where did you learn to do all this?"

"M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting." He replied, giving us an odd look.

"M.I.T.?" I asked, tearing my gaze from the laptop to Ash.

"It's a school in Boston." Ash explained.

Dean nodded, "Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?" He asked, sitting back on his stool.

"_Si, si, compadre_." Ash replied with a nod. Dean took another sip of his beer then set it down. Picking up the discarded bottle, Ash took a drink from it, obviously not afraid of catching something. Dean motioned his head to move to the door—he was definitely itching to get back to Bobby's.

"Hey, listen –" Ellen called out, "if you boys need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back."

Dean nodded, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish, and somebody I gotta see."

With a knowing smile, Ellen nodded, "Okay. And, Dean?" He paused looking to her with an inquiring look, "Tell Abigail I said, _Hey_."

He shifted, "Sure thing."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Bobby's Junkyard—Day**_

The gang was back together, though, it seemed more tore and frayed than what was needed to be admitted. Dean barely spoke ten full sentences to me in the past three days, while Sam was the complete opposite; elaborating what went on during their job. Like it had been for the past two weeks now, Dean returned to working on the car again. This time, he was unscrewing bolts to the wheels in order to get to the wheel drum. I stayed perched on a nearby abandoned truck while Sam paced nearby, clearly looking upset about something. _John._

"You were right." He suddenly said.

Dean let out a grunt as he stood up to weave around him and the Impala in search of a tool, "About what?" He asked, looking around until I tapped the side of the truck I was on, earning a look from him when I held up a socket wrench. He nodded, coming over to me and took it, enclosing my fingers in his. He must've held it there a few seconds longer than what would be considered normal until he averted his eyes to the ground and turned, making his way back to the Impala.

"About me and Dad." Sam said, "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him."

"Sammy—" I said softly.

Sam flicked his hands out, slapping them against his jeans, "So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late." Sam's lips began to tremble, "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all." His tongue darted out, seeing the tears he held glitter, "But neither are you guys. That much I know." After a pause, Sam inhaled sharply and nodded, "I'll let you get back to work."

Upon turning his back to leave, Dean watched him go in silence. Who knew what he was thinking? Feeling—sorrow and guilt and anger was rolling off of him and crashed into me. When Sam was out of view, Dean turned his head to me, "Why'd you leave?"

"I wasn't stayin' in a place I didn't know." I replied simply.

"But you were _safe_." His eyes bored holes into mine.

"I wanted to be with our daughter, you weren't there to stop me." Dean picked up a crowbar and slammed the end of it into a nearby car, causing me to jump.

"I had _no clue_ where you were! _No_ clue!" He yelled out.

I blinked out of shock at the animosity that was coming off of him, "Like-like I said before, you know nothin' until Sam tells you."

His hand remained tightly wrapped around the crowbar, picking it up and pointed it to me, "You could've gotten hurt or worse!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, shaking off the sliver of fear that I felt, "Well then I guess I woulda done you a favor, then, huh?"

"How much of a self-centered bitch do you have to be?" He spat out, "Look at you!"

I scoffed, "Look at _me_? Dean, you look at me like I'm some dyin' animal! I'm fine! Okay?!" I stepped down off the truck, watching as the vein in his neck twitched. I saw the look in his eyes: a little bit of terror mixed with wrath. I felt this nasty pit in my stomach. He knew something I didn't, "Dean," I said gently, trying to coax him out of his angry state, "talk to me. What happened while I was out?"

Dean's grip on the crowbar tightened, and then he started smashing the windows to the Impala.

I gasped out of shock, "_Dean_, stop!" I begged him, but he couldn't hear me at all as he kept hitting the car. It was so surreal that it would come down to this. The Impala was nearly finished—it looked almost new. Seeing him bust out the back glass, dent the trunk and quarter panels, I couldn't stand to let him damage the one thing he loved other than me, Sam, and Megan. _This was his pins and needles busting apart_.

"_Dean_!" I reached out to grab the crowbar from his hands when he started to slow down. It clattered to the ground about the time Dean had grabbed me by the arms and slammed me against the side of the Impala. I hissed when I felt a jagged piece of metal cut my left hand, but didn't bother to move. Dean's hands gripped my arms so tight, it hurt, "You're hurtin' me." I gritted out, staring him down. In those hazel eyes of his, they looked tormented; reeling. "Let me go."

Breathing hard, Dean remained where he stood. That was until I jerked my arm out of his grasp and punched him as hard as I could in the jaw. It worked because he let me go, staring at me, utterly bewildered. I was fighting off every urge to just start crying in front of him. His anger had surmounted anything I had seen come from him, and there was no way in _hell_ I was going to breakdown in front of him. Not after everything that's happened. After a few moments of deafening silence, I narrowed my eyes at him in vehemence, "You dick!" I growled out before shouldered my way past him and ran back into Bobby's house with whatever strength I had left.

Slamming the door open, I had my bleeding hand clutched into my shirt. Sam and Bobby rushed into the hall to see what was going on. When I stormed past Bobby, Sam saw the blood on my shirt and gaped in alarm.

"Abigail? What happened?" Sam asked.

"Your brother!" I yelled out, ignoring the horrible fact that my voice was breaking with emotion, "_That's_ what happened!" Sam looked to the door in shock, then watched me as I stomped up the stairs to the bathroom. My heart was breaking just from the shock of everything. As soon as I shut the door, I started huffing out uneasy and strained breaths Emotions rampaged through my body at a million miles a minute. It was _so_ hard to believe that John was gone, just like my dad. I wanted to believe that he had just left on a hunting trip—just like my dad and mom did, taking the kids with them. It was something I could hang onto so easily, but in reality, two of the greatest men I've ever known were ripped from me in a blink of an eye.

I felt my bottom lip trembling from the crushing weight of the past couple of weeks until my uneasy breaths had formed into choking sobs. I lifted my hands above my head, and placed them on the back of my neck as I curled up in front of the bathroom door, enduring the body wracking sobs that tore through me like a torrential typhoon.

I felt so betrayed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long. When they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me_.

I leaned against the Impala panting, feeling the sharp pain in my jaw from Abigail's right hook. _So this was it. These so-called 'pins and needles' that seemingly held me together had burst loose; just like she said_. I scoffed, blindly staring into nothingness through tears that I refused to let go. Abigail saw through me; always having this knowing look in her eyes when we argued.

I swiped my hand across my face with a shuddering breath. Everything just seemed to crash down on me. Dad was gone—truly gone, my daughter's life hung in the balance on a day to day basis, and this family—_my family_—was falling apart. Unlike me, Abigail had been understanding and selfless up to a point, and Sam just wanted someone to reach out to. I was supposed to be there for them, I could've done something to make it easier on them, but I didn't. I didn't make a move at all. Did that mean that I was a selfish bastard?

My hand balled up into a fist against the sun-warmed metal, letting out my frustration and anger and self-loathing, until my hand was throbbing and blood smeared across the dented in place. This wasn't some dream. I hadn't almost hurt Abigail, I already did. It wasn't just her that I ignored. I ignored my brother—my own flesh and blood. _How low is that_? I forced myself to turn back around, to look where Sam and Abigail both stood pleading to get some kind of response from me.

_Does it ever occur that you're not the only one missin' Dad? He wasn't just yours and Sam's dad; he was mine too._ I hung my head at Abigail's words. "I know he was, Abs." I felt the painful prick of another round of tears.

_I miss him, man._ "God, Sam…" I put my hand to my mouth and ran it down quickly. I kicked the crowbar out of my way as I headed back into Bobby's place—where I was greeted with a none-to-kind welcoming committee.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam blasted me as soon as I stepped through the door. He followed me to the bottom of the stairs that led up to the second floor, "Dean!"

I paused, "I don't wanna talk about it."

He let out a scoff, "Of course you wouldn't, Dean. Abigail comes flying in here—bleeding—and you act like it's nothing. She won't even _speak_ to me!"

"We just had a little disagreement—that was it." I said flatly, "Just…go do whatever stuff it is you do." Sam rolled his eyes at me muttering "I can't believe this." _Yeah, well, you better believe it, Sammy._ "Word of the wise," I added, "_Don't_ be in a relationship if you can't handle the crap that comes with it."

I didn't wait for another response. Climbing the stairs, I peered into the room that Abs and I always shared seeing that she wasn't there. For a split second, crippling fear ebbed into my mind thinking that she had cut out and run until I heard the sound of someone moving in water from in the bathroom. Slowly approaching the door, I heard Abigail's soft sniffles and quick intake of breath. I leaned my head against the door, squeezing my eyes shut out of guilt. _She was crying because of me._

Hesitant, I lifted my hand to the door and knocked, hearing a small gasp from Abigail and then a soft curse. "Go away, Sam. I told you I'm fine…" I rolled my eyes at her lie, "'sides, I don't wanna hear your Dr. Phil crap."

I entered the bathroom anyways hearing her slide into the tub. Already I could feel her eyes bore into me with animosity. I didn't care. Looking at her, she was half-hidden in the tub filled with a thick blanket of bubbles. If it weren't for the fact that I felt like shit, I would've smiled—one of her favorite things to do was soak in a tub filled to the brim with bubbles after a hunt or us arguing.

"It's uh," I cleared my throat to sway the sound of my voice breaking, "your dick of a lover." I muttered, "Not little big brother." Abigail's jaw was set avoiding my gaze. She had the right to.

"Well, you go too." She replied simply, lifting her arm out of the water and waved me off casually, "Since I'm being a self-centered bitch an' all."

I heaved out a sigh, "Abs...I-I didn't mean to say that to you."

Abigail snorted, "Yeah, an' I guess slammin' me into the car was an accident too."

I grimaced at that, "I was out of line." I told her as she scoffed. Her lips tipped upwards into a sarcastic smirk as if I basically said a lie. "Look, you're not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll find a way out." She muttered stubbornly, not entirely thinking of what she had just said. I fought off the urge to laugh at that.

"I'm not budging from this spot." I said simply, "You wanted to talk? Well, here I am. You're gonna talk to me." I told her, splaying my arms out, "There's more going on with you than what you lead on with Sam and Bobby."

Abigail looked over at me with narrowed eyes. If looks could've killed, I would be dead. "I said, I'm fine."

"Don't give me that shit, Abigail. I know what _'I'm fine'_ means when it comes from you." I tapped my chest, "If you don't think for once that I'm not hurting, you're wrong." Her eyes met mine in silence while I fought off another bout of tears. Drawing a deep breath, I worked my jaw in an odd manner, "Look, I understand if you don't want to speak to me after what happened out there in the scrap yard, I do. But for me to think that you're hurting over our daughter being in the hospital and not breathing a word of it to anyone, then I need you to talk to me." I said gently, "I need to know what I can do to make it easier on you, hell, easier on the both of us, because I know it ain't easy. Especially since…" I trailed off, but she knew who I meant. _Especially since Dad died_.

"Abs, I've been nothing but a Grade-A douche-bag to you and Sammy—"

"That's an understatement." Abigail muttered, "But go on."

I swallowed hard. This was harder than what I thought, "You and him? You two don't deserve it—not from me of all people. I was supposed to keep you two safe, make sure you two were happy and nothing hurt you," I couldn't look at her anymore, "and—and I blew it."

"I'm so damn tired, Dean." She breathed out finally, "I'm about to fall over, and I could care less about it. I can't sleep—not while Megan is still in the hospital, not while that demon is still on the loose." Her eyes glittered from unspent tears when she looked to me, "and what would make it easier on me is for me to be able to hold my daughter without cords bein' attached to her." I nodded in understanding. I wanted the same thing. Then she made a sound that was something between a scoff and a laugh, "And then I think, it's my fault she's there in that hospital, born thirteen weeks early."

"Don't you dare say that," I ground out, "Just don't. Not for one minute do I think it's your fault that Megan's born. If you want to blame anything, blame the yellow-eyed son of a bitch that caused all of this." I took a deep breath, "Dad is dead because of him. I almost lost you to him, and I almost lost our daughter. The bastard's gonna get what's coming to him. I swear by it."

I watched silently as Abigail rose up out of her cover of bubbles, taking notice of how the water and suds fell of her. Between the thin sheen of water, her colored nipples puckered as air hit them. I licked my lips upon seeing them bead. _What I wanted to do to them—_I heard a slip and she disappeared for a split second. I rushed forward in alarm, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulled her up as she sputtered and coughed.

I pushed her hair back out of her face, staring at her, alarmed.

"You're gonna make me stop breathin'." She muttered after regaining normalcy to her breathing.

I reached out to stroke the side of her face with a small, smirk twisting in the corner of my mouth, "And I'll breathe for you until you breathe again." I promised, "Abigail, I will always be here for you. No matter what. If something is wrong with you, our daughter, or Sam—you come to me no matter what. You three are all I have left, and I'm not taking my chances of losing either of you."

Abigail stared at me in silence for a couple of beats before her eyes flickered down to my lips not once, but twice, and wordlessly, pulled me into a heated kiss. A fire was lit instantly as soon as I was pulled into the tub with her. Water and suds went everywhere as soon as I hit the water. Her lips were attached to mine feeling her hands go underneath my shirt to feel me.

Soaking wet, we broke away briefly to allow me to peel my shirt off. It landed in the bathroom floor with a loud splat, soon followed by the jacket I had tied around my waist along with the wet thumps of my boots. I came back down to her, running my lips against her skin. A small gasp elicited from her, and she squirmed underneath me. There wasn't anything in this world I wanted more than to bury myself into her and take her right in this tub with Sam and Bobby downstairs. It had been way too long. Reaching into the water, I hooked my hand under her calf and wrapped it around my waist as I dipped my head to take her lips once again.

* * *

><p><em>A loud droning wail of the heart monitor wailed in my ears as I delivered compressions to Abigail's chest. I was already on my second set, blinking back tears. <em>This wasn't happening._ I thought. _Not you.

"_Abs, don't do this to me." I ground out as I stopped my second set, praying to the heart monitor that it would find some kind of rhythm. The loud wail of the machine infuriated me further, and I began another set of thirty compressions. This round, I felt her ribs pop from the strain. It nauseated the thought of her ribs breaking, but it had to be done. I wasn't giving up on her. Not now, not ever._

_The door to her room burst open as a group of nurses and doctors rushed in with a crash cart._

* * *

><p>I jerked away from Abigail, breathing heavily. My hands were firmly planted on either side of the cast-iron tub, white-knuckling it until I thought I bent it. Abigail was underneath me, gazing up with a confused expression.<p>

"Dean?" she asked, "What—what's goin' on?"

I swallowed, looking around us. We were still in the tub. Silently, I swiped my hand across my face, "Nothing…" I muttered, lowering myself back into the water. Abigail reached up taking my face in her hands with such tenderness and kissed me. I forced down the urge to get out of the tub and go back to work on the Impala, but that wouldn't be fair to Abigail.

My right hand entangled itself in her hair, our tongues mingling with our hot breath as we pulled one another closer and closer, wanting more. I felt her hands move from my face, down my chest and stomach until they landed on my belt where they were fumbling to get it undone.

* * *

><p><em>The shrill squeal of the defibrillator and a loud thump accompanied each other while Abigail's body arched up. I ran my hands through my hair, helpless. I couldn't do anything to help her. <em>

_"All clear," the doctor said as the shrill squeal of the defibrillator began charging and Abigail's body arched up once again. This was Tawas Bay all over again. Sam had rushed down the hall, stopping beside me, and began fidgeting nervously. Abigail wasn't going to just give up—it was uncharacteristic of her! _

_"Still no pulse." A nurse said while another nurse behind her head squeezed an AMBU bag._

_"Abs, no." I heard Sam whisper, distraught on the scene unfolding before us._

_The doctor nodded, "Okay, let's go again, 360." He placed the two pads together and placed them on her bare chest._

_"Charging." She told him. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing that this was some fucked up nightmare. "All clear!" The nurse unhooked the bag away from her mouth._

_"Clear!" Said the nurse. And I saw her body arch up again. Nothing._

_"Come on, come on," muttered her doctor, determined to bring her back. I felt tears forming slowly in my eyes. _She's gonna be okay, _I told myself. _

_"Still no pulse." The blaring of the monitors going off as well as a steady tone on her heart monitor made me wanna puke. The nursed hooked the AMBU bag back and started squeezing—forcing oxygen into Abigail's lungs._

_"All clear!"_

_"Clear!" shouted the nurse as everyone stepped away from her. Her body rose up even higher than the last couple of times. I flinched as I saw this happen and I felt my heart pause the moment her monitor paused from the shock. I ran my hands through my hair as I slowly was stepping away as I watched helplessly while they tried to revive her._

_"Nothing." said the nurse._

_"Okay, let's go again." said the doctor. I took a moment to thank him quietly, grateful that he wasn't going to give up on her._

_"Clear." said the nurse, as her doctor shocked her once again. Nothing. _

"_Come on, Abs," I whispered, "Please, don't. Not you." I glanced to Sam seeing him watch everything as tears flowed freely down his face, staining his cheeks. _Come on.

_"No change, starting CPR," announced her doctor, handing the paddles to the nurse by the crash cart, beginning chest compressions on her. As the nurse behind Abigail's head hooked the AMBU bag to her breathing tube, I slid down the wall outside and I could feel my body shake. My hands trembled as I moved them up to my mouth, and I could see Sam's back just shuddering. _God, please. Don't you dare take her from me_._

_"Still nothing." said the nurse, after taking her pulse._

_I narrowed my eyes to at the nurse. She needed to shut the fuck up. I didn't need a newsflash that my girlfriend is dying right before me. A stray tear managed to escape, leaving a trail down my face. My chest was tightening up as I let out a small choke, hanging my head. Then, her heart monitors had slowed down into a steady rhythm._

_"We have a pulse." The head nurse in my room said, "We're back into sinus rhythm."_

_I shot my head up to see her monitor normal, looking over to the doctor who was smiling-relieved. _The son of a bitch actually did it; he brought her back_. _

* * *

><p>I reeled back running my hand down my face, "I can't." I said quickly.<p>

"What? Why?" I heard Abigail question, bewildered.

I shook my head, slinging water everywhere, "I'm sorry, Abs, I just—I just can't. Not now." I got out of the tub and grabbed a blood red towel, walking back to the tub and helped Abigail stand while I wrapped the towel around her exposed body.

"Dean, what's goin' on?" She asked me, worried. Wordlessly, I picked her up bridal style—the both of us soaked to the bone. Walking out into the hallway, I took her to our room, setting her down gently on the bed.

_Why was this now happening? Why now?_ I hung my head, ashamed that I had stopped thing completely. Abigail cupped my face, and pulled herself up to kiss me again. I knew what she wanted, and for fuck's sake, I wanted her just as bad. Pulling away, I gazed down at her guiltily, "Get some rest, then we'll try this again later." I could almost hear her heart shatter when I rested my forehead against hers before I tucked her in, gave her another kiss, and left the room, closing the door behind me. I leaned against it for a moment, closing my eyes when I heard her start sniffling.

I didn't know if we were going to be okay after this.

* * *

><p><strong>Next up-<em>Bloodlust!<em> I hope you guys enjoyed the second part to _Everybody Loves a Clown, _again, this was an unintentional two parter, but there was so many thing going on between everyone that it needed to be a two parter. **

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as giving suggestion as to what I wrote. It was actually her idea for the tub scene and for Dean to have flashbacks of them resuscitating her Abigail-talk about a mood killer! So not all credit is going to me, but to her as well!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. The 'tub scene' was inspired by the move "The Fountain". All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

* * *

><p><strong>The song for this chapter-<em> Never Too Late<em> by Three Days Grace**

* * *

><p>- <strong>Thank you! Well, I guess we can say that he's not angry anymore, but...can we say he's a little more guilty?<strong>

**grapejuice101- Thank you so much! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I try to get them out as quickly as I can!**

**giddyfan- I don't think we like flirty Jo, but hey, at least Dean told her he was involved and then added to it! **

**Guest- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**angelicedg- Oh yeah! Can you say mini-Winchester already has him wrapped around her finger? We'll see down the road what we have in store for Ellen!**

**peygoodwin- Awe, thank you!**

**SassyGrl23- I think we all do! He kinda reverts into a bratty kid, but also retains his overprotective dad status.**


	6. Bloodlust

_All of my hate cannot be bound_

_I will not be drowned by your thoughtless scheming_

_So you can try to tear me down_

_Beat me to the ground_

_I will see you screaming_

* * *

><p><em><strong>August 25<strong>__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Open Road—Day **_

A warm August breeze rolled in through the open windows of the newly restored Impala, bringing in all kinds of smells. From outside, the earthy smell of the dust and grass mixed with the smell of the hot blacktop brought a wave of nostalgia through all of us—it brought back all forms of memories; good and bad. From within the Impala, a comforting leathery smell came from the newly upholstered seats as well as the small wafts of cologne from both of the boys.

Blasting over of the roar of the engine, which was fitting for the mood we were in, was _Back in Black_ by AC/DC. Up front, Dean was behind the wheel, grooving along to the music while Sam sat in his usual spot as shotgun, and I was lying on my back with my bare feet hanging out of the window and my arms folded behind my head like I always done during the warm, summer months. Granted, it was the most relaxed I had been since, well, everything went to hell in a hand basket.

"Whoo!" Dean exclaimed from up front as we barreled down a two-lane road, "Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" I rose up from the backseat seeing him grinning from ear to ear.

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Sammy know, Dean." I offered with a playful smirk, catching Sam's lips spread out into a grin.

"Oh, don't listen to her, baby." Dean leaned forward to stroke the dashboard lovingly, "They don't understand us."

Sam let out a laugh, "You're in a good mood." Dean looked over at him with an honest-to-goodness, smile. I had to agree with Sam, because I didn't feel a twinge of guilt or sadness from him.

"Why shouldn't I be?" He asked with a frown.

"No reason." Sam said with a shrug.

"Got my car, got a case, got one of my girls with me," His hand left the steering wheel and reached behind his head to take mine in his, "while my other girl gained another pound," His eyes flickered up into the rearview mirror, twinkling, "little brother, things are looking up for us."

I felt an unsettling twinge in my gut. My cellphone felt like a brick, urging me to call and check on my daughter. We hadn't been gone a couple of hours.

"Wow... Give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine." I added. They were all smiles.

Dean chuckled, running his thumb across my knuckles, "How far to Red Lodge?" he asked, letting go of my hand so I could look.

I retracted my legs from out of the window to sit up in the seat, picking up a map that was in the floor, "Uh, about another three hundred miles."

Dean grinned, "Good." The Impala lurched forward with a roar as he gunned it, letting the newly rebuilt car's horses run.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Red Lodge, Montana<strong>_

_**Sheriff's Office—Day**_

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." Said a gruff, heavy-set sheriff with an impressive mustache. It was so big, that it almost covered his lips, which also put me in the mind of a heavy-set Sam Elliott. I pursed my lips in amusement at the thought. Sam, Dean, and I had posed as reporters other than our usual getups of impersonating an FBI agent or an officer.

"That's understandable, sir." I said with a smile, "but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" The Sheriff nodded to me from behind his desk, letting out a grunt, "Okay, and the other—a, uh, Christina Flannigan."

"That was two days ago. Is there –" We twisted around when a young woman knocked on the door behind us, pointing to her watch. "Oh." He looked to us with a nod, "Sorry, time's up. We're done here."

"One last question–" Sam said quickly as the sheriff rose from his black, leather seat to show us out.

"What about the cattle?" Dean asked shifting in his seat.

The sheriff focused on Dean with a hard, disbelieving look, "Excuse me?"

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained—over a dozen cases." Dean jogged his memory, though the bushy mustached sheriff still held an incredulous look.

"What about them?" He prompted.

"So you don't think there's a connection?" I questioned.

"Connection ... _with_...?" I glanced over to Dean and Sam. This poor soul wouldn't have known a connection if it bit him in the ass.

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders?" Sam elaborated for him, "Kinda sounds like ritual stuff."

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" Dean added. The sheriff busted out laughing, which was probably the only thing the three of us were able to get out of him. I frowned at the man's disdainful laughter, feeling his contempt come in waves. I met Sam and Dean's miffed looks before his laughter died out.

"You - you're not kidding." He realized after us not joining in.

Dean shook his head, his face a deadpan, "No." We were dead serious.

The sheriff cleared his throat, "Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?" Sam humored him.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat'll split it open so clean it's just about surgical." He explained, "The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan." I pressed my lips into a thin line to avoid laughing. "What newspaper did you say you work for?"

"World Weekly News..." Dean said.

"Weekly World News." Sam corrected him quickly. I grimaced at their mistake. Now as probably a good time to leave.

"World—" Dean stumbled over his words.

"Weekly World—" Sam interrupted. They glanced at each other worriedly. I grabbed them both by the sleeves of their jackets and laughed nervously.

"They're new." I defended with a weak smile. My hands clenched around their arms, pinching them and they jumped, nodding.

"Get out of my office." The sheriff told us pointedly.

Dean saluted, while I drug them both out, and didn't look back. A few hours in and we almost botched the hunt. Outside, Dean looked down at the newspaper with furrowed brows. "World Weekly News…" He shook his head, "World _Weekly_ News...wait, Weekly World News?" He asked, looking over at me confused. I shrugged, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically, "This is confusing…" He muttered, tucking the paper underneath his arm.

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetheart." I commented leaning on the side of the Impala, "So, where to next?"

"The, uh, morgue." Sam said.

"Oh, joy_._" I muttered, running my hand through my hair.

"Ah, can't be a princess all your life, sweetheart." Dean joked, patting my buttocks playfully as he passed by. I jumped slightly at the gesture, since you know, that had been the closest thing to an intimate touch from him since his pins and needles busted loose. I blushed like a schoolgirl seeing him look over his shoulder, winking.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hospital—Day<strong>_

Dressed in the same attire from the sheriff's office, a white lab coat had become my newest accessory—aside from the quick and neat sock bun and pair of reading glasses—as Sam and Dean followed behind me. Dean, however, was being Dean. Walking into the morgue, the intern on duty with a name tag that reads J. Manners was checking charts. I stopped in front of the desk, and since Dean was paying attention to _other_ things, he about run into me if Sam hadn't pulled him to a stop.

I smiled at him, "John."

"Jeff," he corrected, smiling in return.

I laughed coyly, "Jeff, my mistake." From behind me, Dean rolled his eyes, "Pulled an all-nighter, so I'm a little slow. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away."

Jeff swallowed hard, glancing down at me, "But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation." He said, confused.

I clicked my tongue, "Well, he's back…and between you, me, and the campers here," I leaned forward, "He's pissed." He reeled back, blanching.

"And he's screaming for you, man." Dean then added, "So if I were you, I would…" Jeff had already ran out the door before Dean managed to finish his sentence. We all watched for a second before jumping into business mode.

"Okay, then." I said moving to the box of latex gloves, "Those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead." He pulled on the pair I gave him, then reached Dean a pair.

"Yeah. So much fucked up shit happens in Florida." Dean muttered, pulling on his pair of gloves, and made the latex slap against his skin. Sam helped me open a compartment and wheeled out a corpse with a box between its legs. Due to the status of the beheaded corpse, the box had to contain the victim's head.

We all stood there staring at the box, and Dean nudged Sam, "Alright, open it."

Sam nudged him back, "You open it."

I rolled my eyes at them, "Pussies." I muttered to the both of them, picking up the ten pound box and carried it over to another table, flipping off the lid. I grimaced, feeling my stomach flop all over the place, "Yummy." I said sarcastically when Dean and Sam came up behind me, peering over my shoulders to see the head and cringed.

"Well, no pentagram." Dean said quickly, grossed-out.

"Wow." Sam breathed out, "Poor girl."

"You ain't kiddin'." I muttered.

Dean cleared his throat, "Maybe we should, uh, you know," he inclined his head to the side just a hair, "look in her mouth, and see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat." He turned to me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "You know, kinda like the moth in _Silence of the Lambs_."

I took the box and slid it over him, "Yeah, here, go ahead."

Dean pushed it back to me, "Nah, you go ahead. You packed it over here." When I didn't budge, we looked to Sam.

"What?" he asked innocently. Dean and I pushed the box to him.

"_Put the lotion in the basket_." I snickered at Dean's impersonation of Billy the Kid.

Sam scoffed, "Right, yeah, I'm the pussy, huh? Whatever." It took him a moment to steel himself at his gruesome task ahead, and inserted his fingers into the mouth. Dean and I scrunched our faces at him, though, I spotted a trashcan nearby. You know, for good measures, "Dean, get me a bucket?"

"You find something?" He asked, curiously.

Sam shook his head, "No, I'm going to puke."

I furrowed my brows, seeing something, "Wait." Dean and Sam looked to me as I motioned for him to move the head my way. He didn't hesitate. I hunkered down to the level of the woman's mouth and lifted up her lip. "Well, I'll be damned."

Dean saw it too, "What is that, a hole?" he asked as I pressed above the hole, and a narrow, sharp tooth descended.

"It's a tooth." Sam breathed out. I shook my head, taking my left hand to hold up more of the girl's lip.

"Correction: _Fangs_." I said, taking my right index, middle, and ring fingers, pressing certain areas on the gum line, and several narrow, pointed teeth jutted out, "Retractable set of vampire fangs."

Dean groaned, "You gotta be kidding me."

Sam blew out a breath of air, "Well, this changes things." I straightened up, hearing my knees pop loudly.

"Ya think?" Dean asked with a sarcastic look.

I fixed the dead vampire's mouth, setting it back into the box it was in, and packed it back over to it's body, "We need to leave." Sam helped me wheel the body back into the compartment, then the three of us peeled our gloves off. We were all uneasy, "Guys, my spidey senses are goin' off. I don't like this, we should head back to the motel and find some more things out, ya know?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, "Yeah, that would be good start to something." Dean said with a definitive nod. We hightailed it out of the morgue in our stolen white coats, tossing them into the back of the Impala before the intern Jeff realized he'd been duped.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Adobe Motel—Day<strong>_

Dean sat on our bed with multiple weapons laid out, cleaning them while Sam sat on his bed with his laptop. I stepped out from the bathroom taking my hair down from the sock bun. Comfortable, I slid in behind Dean and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He leaned into me with a pleased grin gracing his features.

"Y'know, those jackets would come in handy later on." Dean told me in a low tone, waggling his brows suggestively at me. I laughed lightly at him.

"I'll hold you to it, _Doctor_." I replied, seeing him puff out a little.

Sam looked up at us from the laptop with a faux-glare, "You two realize I'm here, right?" Dean and I peered over at him with smug looks, meeting his smile.

"Yeah, we know." Dean replied in a casual tone. We were in good spirits other than me being spooked by another hunter being in close proximity of us. I ran my hand through Dean's hair when he leaned forward to resume cleaning our weapons, raking my nails against his scalp and he shivered. He twisted around with a sharp look—for the record, it was a pout—and I smiled at him sheepishly, allowing him to continue what he was doing.

"So someone's already here, killing vampires, huh?" Sam said.

Dean grunted, "Well, whatever it is, it doesn't matter. You've still gotta smoke the nest, whether we find our mystery guest or not."

"I suppose." Sam shrugged, glancing over to me.

"Any luck with that address with Christine Flanagan?"

Sam's lips formed a thin line as he shook his head, "Nah, just a PO Box. And guess what?" I raised my brows at him to continue, "Same with the first victim."

In front of me, Dean started to laugh at himself, shaking his head while he reassembled my pistol, "Victim." He said, "Hoo, that's," His shoulders began to shake from laughing, "That's—that's…" Dean met Sam's bitchface, then looked over at me and his laughter subsided. He cleared his throat, "Funny."

"You know what, Dean, they both got hired six months ago." Sam stated, unimpressed by Dean's lightheartedness.

"Yeah?"

I blinked, furrowing my brows slightly, "Six months." I stated, "I mean, doesn't that seem long to you? Weren't the last vampires we tangled with migratory?"

Dean pursed his lips at the thought of it, "Well, if you think about it, I mean, they could get a job, they could blend in, you know?" He lifted his shoulders, "Nobody's gonna suspect the cute waitress at the diner, right? So, they get enough people, they bleed 'em in the nest, it's an all-you-can-eat buffet." He hypothesized.

Sam's eyes swiveled from his brother, then to me, "_Yeah_, okay. But ... the missing persons stats around here are average. Hell, they're actually below average."

"Well, maybe they're grabbing their takeout from someplace else. I don't really care." He grinned at his brother, "All I know is—I get to kill some vampires." Sam looked away, shaking his head in displeasure. Dean furrowed his brows at him, confused, and twisted around to look at me.

"What?" He asked. I shrugged at him, this wasn't going to be my argument.

Sam sighed, "Look, don't get me wrong, alright? I'm happy you're happy. I'm happy that Abigail's here with us, and she's happy…sort of." I inclined my head at him, understanding what he meant. Which was fine. "But don't you think that, with everything that happened to Dad, you're just acting a little too…" Sam paused, trying to find the right word.

"Caffeinated?" I asked, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Caffeinated." He replied.

Dean snorted at us, "I'm enjoying my work, guys. Ya'll oughta try it sometime." I rolled my eyes at him, swatting the back of his head. Dean jumped slightly at the gesture, turning at me with a scrunched up face, "What?"

"Nothing." I said to him. "If we do anythin', we should probably head to the bar…you know, see if the locals have heard or seen anythin' out of the ordinary. Ya'll know how vamps get."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Bar—Night<strong>_

"Thanks, Ashley. I appreciate it." I hung up, chewing on the end of my antenna for a moment out of anxiety. Around me in the parking lot were several patrons; some sober, some completely three sheets to the wind, drunk. Aside from the smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes, I fidgeted like some tweaker waiting for his next fix. This was the longest I had _ever_ been away from Megan, and it was slowly taking it's toll on me. Dean came up behind me, wrapping me in his arms and pressed his lips to the back of my neck, raising goose bumps across my body.

"How's Meg?" He murmured, slowly turning me around to face him.

I shrugged, "She's been fussy. Didn't sleep much today, and she's been spittin' up." Dean's brows knitted together out of concern when I pulled my bottom lip in to chew on it, "She's missin' us." I muttered, averting my eyes to the Impala's rear wheel, "I should've stayed behind."

"Hey." His calloused hands cupped my face tenderly. I closed my eyes against his touch, feeling guilt creep from him to me, "Abigail, Megan's fine. We'll be back with her in no time. I figured it'd be good for you to get out and stretch your legs, since well, the last time didn't blow over well."

I grimaced at the memory of our not-so-distant knockdown drag-out, "Yeah. I know…" My left hand was still tender from the large cut, causing me to flex it a couple of times. Dean's eyes dropped to my hand with a frown.

"Look, I didn't mean to do what I did…" He began, taking my hand in his, and over turned it to expose the healing cut. Around it was an angry red, making him grimace. I could almost hear him say, _I did that to her._

"It's fine, Dean." I cut him off with a strained smile, "Really. It was just one of our usual knockdown-drag outs."

His face twisted into a look of shame, licking his lips, "No, this wasn't. I've _never_ put my hands on you like that, Abigail. This—" He held up my hand, "—shouldn't have happened."

I then took my hand away from his, placing it on the side of his face, and felt the stubble scratch my palm, "I'm. Fine." He scoffed, "I'm bein' serious, Dean. I'm not some wounded animal, I'm not made of porcelain. I can take a hit."

"Not from me." He murmured, hanging his head out of shame, "Grade-A douchebag." I lifted his face gently, seeing those hazel orbs of his swirl with guilt.

"Well, you're my douchebag," I told him smiling softly, "and we have a kid. So, we're gonna take hits from each other every now an' then. Hell, we've seen worse." My shoulders lifted in a small shrug, then slowly reached up to pull his amulet out from his shirt. His head bowed, watching what I did with a fragile look in his eyes. I kept the brass head in between my thumb and index finger, when he reached up, encasing my hand in his and pressed his lips against my knuckles.

"I don't see what you see in me, Abs…" Dean breathed out. I felt a painful squeeze in my chest at his words. He shook his head, keeping the fragile look in his eyes, "but whatever it is you do see, I'm just glad you chose me."

I smiled softly, "Me too." I rose up on my tiptoes and kissed his lips. We lingered in a soft, reassuring kiss that was seemingly trying to piece back several shattered pieces of our relationship after John had died. It wasn't much, but it was there. The tiniest of touches or an embrace that took longer than most—that's what made me feel reassured that we were going to be okay. However, if Dean spoke and tried to reassure me…it wasn't reassuring at all. I felt his pain and suffering of something other than just him slamming me against the Impala. It was crushing, like the Empire State Building sat on my chest.

Despite the need to frown, I pulled back forcing myself to smile weakly at him, to reassure that I was okay. It seemed to do the trick since a small flutter of appeasement flourished in my stomach. It stood out from the fifty other emotions I felt from outside of the bar, not counting whatever I felt from all around me. It was a crushing weight—that was until Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine.

"What would I do without you?" He asked in the lightest voice.

I took his face in my hands with a small smile tugging at my lips, "Crash and burn." I replied, and a smile broke out across his face.

"You might be onto somethin', babe." Dean tipped his head to kiss me again, this time, deep and playful before he pulled back, "C'mon, Sammy's probably thinking something dirty." he said with a boyish grin, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

Inside the bar, the oddly comforting odor of alcoholic beverages and cigarettes clung in the air as we made our way to bar once spotting our taller than average brother.

Dean nodded to the bartender, "How's it going?"

"Living the dream." He replied, "What can I get for you?"

"Three beers, please." Dean told him, setting down a twenty in front of the bartender.

"So, we're looking for some people." Sam said, earning a smirk from the man.

"Sure. Hard to be lonely." He said, and Sam frowned. Dean and I pursed our lips in amusement. He always fell for that kind of stuff.

"Yeah. But um, that's not what I meant." I noticed Sam pull out a fifty from his pocket, considering something, and dropped it on the bar carelessly. The bartender looked at it, then took it, "Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink..."

"Yeah, real night owls, you know?" I asked, earning a questioning look from him. Something was off about him…I could sense it, "Sleep all day, party all night?"

"Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners." He explained, "They've been in here a lot - drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice."

"Thanks." Dean said as we parted ways with out half-finished beers on the table. Over every patron, I felt eyes on us the entire time we spoke to the bartender. Outside, I scraped the bottom of my shoe against the pavement, earning looks from Sam and Dean.

"I've got gum on my shoe." I said, seeing their knowing looks.

"You've got the shittiest luck with your shoes, Abs." Dean joked when I fell back into place between them. We took a turn down an alleyway and into the parking lot, waiting for whoever was trailing us to mess up. Dean pulled me behind a car, pressing his finger to my lips. I nodded, seeing Sam duck behind another car nearby when a pair of footsteps could be heard.

My eyes flitted to the darkened alleyway, eyes narrowing with anticipation. Whoever was following us caused a knot to form in my stomach. The feeling I got from that significant person made me want to punch someone in the throat or hunt someone down. I couldn't even think about my own feelings—just theirs.

Out from the shadows, an African-American man stepped out looking around the parking lot with his back turned to us. From beside me, Dean's jaw muscle clenched, glancing over to me for verification. I nodded, signaling that's who had been on our tails. Both Sam and Dean were apprehensive—poised like predators waiting for the right moment to jump. Sam glanced over to us, ready.

When the man hesitated, they stalked out just as he turned around with Dean pinning him to the wall and a knife held at his throat.

"Smile." Dean growled out.

"What?" The man asked, looking confused. I stepped out from behind the car, seeing his eyes flicker to me—Dean shoved him harder, eyes narrowing at him.

"Show us those pearly whites." Dean elaborated.

The man rolled his eyes at us, "Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire." Sam frowned and the man smirked, "Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there."

I crossed my arms, keeping a safe distance from him, "What do you know about vampires?"

"How to kill them." He replied throwing Dean a look, "Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch." Dean tilted his head at him, unmoving. That was until the man began to pull away and Sam took his turn to pin the man, "Whoa. Easy there, _Chachi_." As a gesture of surrender, he slowly brought his hand to his lip, pulling it back to reveal normal gums—no signs of elongated, narrow fangs.

He turned his eyes on me, "See? Fangless." He looked back to Dean and Sam when they let up, standing in front of me protectively, "Now. Who the hell are you three?"

* * *

><p>In short, we learned that this man's name is Gordon Walker. Obviously, he's a hunter, and judging by his arsenal in the red El Camino, he was a good one—had the right stuff.<p>

"Sam and Dean Winchester." He mused, "And Abigail Colt. I can't believe it." I glanced over to Dean and Sam, shifting uneasily. I didn't like this man, "You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy." Gordon pulled out a metal sheet containing a variety of weapons. I sucked in my cheek, holding it in between my teeth at a stab of pain in my chest, it was doubled by Dean and Sam. In silence, I waited until it dissipated. "Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry." His eyes fell on me, holding my gaze for a moment, "Met your folks some years ago, too…damn good hunters. Ya'll have some big shoes. But from what I hear, you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot –"

Dean held a mistrustful gaze on Gordon, seemingly wary about how he knew so much about us, "You seem to know a lot about our family."

Gordon straightened up, "Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk."

The three of us frowned at that. Apparently we were the headlines of some kind of newspaper that went around, and we had no idea about it. "No, we don't, actually."

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?" Gordon said, looking over to Dean. His jaw was set.

"So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asked, changing the subject to avoid another confrontation that might've ended up in Gordon getting his ass kicked.

Gordon nodded, "Yep. Been here two weeks." _He was way too proud about his kills._

I licked my lips, "Did you check out that Barker farm?"

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone." Gordon's lips quirked at his joke, though no one smiled. His arrogance was about to send me into fits!

"Where's the nest, then?" I inquired, fully intended on leaving dust in this guy's face.

Gordon smiled patronizingly at my question, "I got this one covered." He shoved the metal sheet back behind his sheet, "Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."

_Well, that was the end of that_. I thought smugly, as my own eagerness bubbled up to head back to South Dakota.

"We could help." Dean said quickly.

_Wait, what?!_ I gawked at him in disbelief, looking over to Sam who appeared to be surprised at Dean.

"Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy." Gordon said tightly.

It unnerved me at how quick Dean was becoming, "Come on, man, I've been itching for a hunt."

"Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out." He sunk into the driver's seat of the El Camino, "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side." Starting the car, he drove off, leaving us behind. Just like that.

I silently thanked him, hoping that this little 'encounter' gave Dean a hint that this wasn't our day. "Wanna find another hunt?" I asked when I took noticed of his eyes remaining fixed on the red car until it was out of sight.

"No, we're following him." He said, determined. His jaw was working his jaw oddly. I almost groaned out of displeasure, _knowing_ that look in his eyes. It was like Gordon basically called out his ability as a hunter. And so, we were hunting vamps.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mill—Night<strong>_

We tracked Gordon to a quiet lumber mill. There was several different scents by the lumber there—the crisp, evergreen smell of pine, the smoky, woodsy odor of hickory, and the pungent, refreshing smell of cedar—filled my nose. No one seemed to be around, seeing how the workers had returned home for the day, leaving an empty shell of a building. It had some wear and tear on the exterior that was for sure.

Getting out of the Impala, Dean looked to both Sam and I, "Stay out of sight until things go south, got it?"

I pursed my lips at him in a disapproving manner. I did _not_ like this new outlook Dean had. I scrubbed my nose a moment, and inhaled sharply. "Crystal." I answered for the both of us. Dean held his gaze on mine, assessing me, and nodded in approval.

"Alright then, let's go."

Inside, sounds of a fight echoed through the empty mill. It was simple to tell who was who, but the similarities of what I felt was astonishing. There was animosity and revenge—that had to be Gordon. Then there was animosity and something else—that had to be the vampire. With Dean in the lead, I fell in beside him, ready to pound something into the ground…to _kill_ unflinchingly.

Finding Gordon as he confronted the vampire, it was easy to see that he was getting his ass kicked. The grating sound of a saw being switched on rang out when the vampire had pinned Gordon down below it. Sam got to Gordon first, pulling him away to safety while Dean and I attacked the vampire. It reared up, fang fully extended in a snarl with the intention of killing us. Somewhere in the back of my mind, something latched onto that murderous intent.

Dean picked up a roof bolt, swinging it. With a pleasing crack, Dean's blow connected nicely on the side of the vamp's head. Unflinching, I found a hook of some kind—perhaps used to pick up small logs—and swung it like a bat, the metal hook meeting the abdomen of the vampire with a sickening squelch. The thing howled out in pain, falling onto the board below the saw, not phasing me or Dean in the least.

Closer to the saw, I reached up, taking the saw's handle in my hands as Dean punched the vampire a few times for good measure, then stepped back when I brought the saw down on the vampire. I didn't give it time to make a sound, for the exception of the blade slicing through meat and bones. Blood sprayed whoever was in the vicinity of the saw—me and Dean. I let up on the saw, staring down at the decapitated mess with morbid satisfaction, meeting Dean's mutually satisfied gaze. We glanced at each other, taking in our bloodied features. Maybe this was needed after all.

Gordon and Sam stood a good few yards away, watching our display, "So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink." He said, looking anything but repulsed like Sam.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Bar—Night<strong>_

I sat in between Sam and Dean, suddenly quiet. I felt repulsed by what happened down at the mill, hell, I felt fucking dirty—even with a new change of clothes on. Dean had his hand on my thigh while he took another drink of beer, setting down the now empty bottle. This was Sam and Dean's second round…I was on my first still. I wasn't in the mood, nor did I want to accompany Gordon on our 'job well done'.

When the waitress came back to our table, Dean's hand left my thigh and reached for his wallet to pay her once she set down their beers, only for Gordon to wave him dismissively, "No, no. I got it."

"Come on." Dean disagreed.

Gordon held up a finger at him as he fingered through a few bills, "I insist." He set two tens on the tray, "Thank you, sweetie." I shifted uncomfortably at that, withholding an urge to get up and slap him. He was just skeevy. Nothing he said sat well with me at all, "Another one bites the dust."

Dean grinned, "That's right." They took their shots while Sam and I sat back with our arms folded, clearly unimpressed.

"Abby, Dean." Gordon laughed out, eyes glimmering in the dim light, "You two gave that big-ass fang one hell of a pounding, my friend."

Dean smiled and nodded, practically _basking_ in his praise, "Thank you."

"I don't mean to be the buzzkill, but, I don't like bein' called that." I said coolly, earning a quick look from Dean and Sam, "No _offense_." I needed to get up and move around or I was going to go mental. Gordon nodded.

"Understandable, makes you out to be underestimated by the others." He said with a grin, "Back at the mill—that was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." I had to look away.

"You two alright?" Dean asked suddenly. I glanced over to see Sam with a sour look on his face, then met Dean's inquired gaze.

"Yeah," I replied, nudging Sam in the side when he made no word.

"I'm fine." Sam grunted out. Dean nodded, returning to the celebration.

Gordon chuckled, "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy." It suddenly got quiet in there, as in, you could almost hear a pin drop. Sam's eyes narrowed at him.

"They're the only ones who get to call me that." Sam replied brusquely, implying Dean and I. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch into a smirk.

_Do I look smug_? I thought, _Cause I sure as hell felt like it._

Gordon raised his hands in surrender, "Okay. No offense meant." His eyes went to me, then to Dean uneasily, "Just celebrating a little. Job well done."

"Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess." He muttered when Dean's eyes narrowed in frustration.

"Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human." Gordon replied, "You've gotta have a little more fun with your job, like your brother and your sister." I stiffened. _Fun?_ _That wasn't _fun.

Dean chuckled, completely agreeing with him, "See? That's what I've been trying to tell him." He leaned forward to see Sam, "You could learn a thing or two from this guy." Sam scoffed, offended at Dean.

I patted Sam on the shoulder, "Look, we're gonna head back to the motel…" Dean's eyes widened, seeming to be a little shocked, "Just…enjoy yourselves."

"You sure?" Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

Dean looked to me once more, "Abs, come on."

I stared at him for a long moment, unwavering, "I'm tired, and I have to make a call." Dean's mouth clamped shut, knowing what I meant, and nodded, handing the keys to me, "Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of Sammy later, alright?" He muttered to me, encasing my hand in his a second longer. As much as I wanted stay because of that touch, or laugh at his little quip, I simply nodded.

I gestured to the door, "C'mon, _Sammy_." Sam reached out his arm, allowing me to lace my arm through his like we were going to prom, and left the bar.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

Gordon turned back to me as we watched Abigail and Sam leave, "Something I said?" He asked.

"Nah," I said shaking my head, "He just gets that way sometimes." _Abs was another story_.

"What about _Abs_?" He prompted. I mentally cringed at the mention of _my_ personal nickname, knowing without a doubt, Abigail would've jumped onto him again.

"Tell you what," I changed the subject, "Match you quarters for the next round." Gordon readily agreed, his prompt about Abigail was quickly lost. It wasn't after the third or fourth round we started to exchange hunting stories.

"So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart." I recounted my first experience with a werewolf, "Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, Abs, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old, Abigail's fifteen. Most kids our age are worried about pimples, prom dates. We're seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of. So right then, I just sort of –"

"Embraced the life?" Gordon asked.

I nodded slowly, "Yeah." I admitted, "Abigail was better accustomed to this than I was—she was raised by the absolute best. Burning that thing didn't faze her in the least."

Gordon nodded, "I saw. She seems like a force not be reckoned with."

I smirked at that, "She's actually livelier than what she was tonight."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah." I nodded a couple of times, "So, how'd you get started?"

"First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late. So I shoot the damn thing. Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone." Gordon fell quiet, looking down at the table with a thousand yard stare.

I leaned forward, intent on his grim tale, "And then?"

Snapping him out of his memory, his eyes flickered to me, "Then... try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill."

I nodded, "Sorry about your sister."

"Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know?" He asked, "The way she was. But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad. It's gotta be rough."

I held my drink in my hand staring at it's contents quietly with a frown. The void I managed to hole up through many hours of working on the Impala, trying to mend things with Sam and Abigail, and sitting with my daughter just suddenly opened up—gaping like some open wound, "Yeah, you know. He was just one of those guys." I said lightly.

"Took some terrible beatings— just kept coming. So you're always thinking to yourself; _he's indestructible. He'll always be around, nothing can kill my dad_. Then just like that," I snapped my fingers, "He's gone." I sighed heavily at the void in my chest, feeling guilt push through whatever buzz I had. "I can't talk about this to Sammy, you know? I gotta keep my game face on."

Gordon nodded understandingly, "What about Abigail?" He asked.

I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat, "Abs?" I half-laughed, half-scoffed at the thought of her, "We've been through a lot—her and I. To level with you, Abigail's strung out, and—and I can't put any more stress on her. It'll kill her." I reached into my pocket to get my wallet, and flipped it open to show Gordon an image of Abigail, me, and Megan, "That's my pride and joy."

Gordon smiled down at the picture, "She's beautiful."

I chuckled, turning to look at the photograph myself, "Yeah, I think so too. She's in the hospital right now cause of some…monster." _And that was putting it lightly_. My mind wandered off to the recent late nights I stayed up, constantly being woken up to nightmares—seeing her lying in the hospital bed, the sound of the heart monitors blaring, Dad not making it and Abigail's hysterical screams—I understood how she felt about her family's demise, but she never got the chance to express it like she had to my dad's. Looking at just my father's death, there was no change to her after her discharge of the hospital. Abigail reverted back into silence or arguments which created this…wedge between us. I wasn't saying it was all her—I had a part in it as well. My family depended—

"Dean?" I looked up to see Gordon's inquisitive stare blankly, remembering our conversation.

I cleared my throat, "The truth is, I'm not handling it very well. Feel like I have this—"

"Hole inside you?" He cut in with a knowing expression set in his dark eyes, "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker?" I didn't reply to his question, only nodded. He knew where I was coming from, and he nodded approvingly with a smirk, "Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job."

_His philosophy was a lot different than Abigail and Sam's_, I thought.

"Know why I love this life?" Gordon asked suddenly. I blinked. "It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong?" Gordon stared me down, shaking his head with a grin, "Not us."

I chuckled, "Not sure Sammy and Abs would agree with you, but uh..."

"Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us—your girlfriend too. I'm not saying they're wrong." He added quickly upon sensing that he might've overstepped his boundaries with me and seeing my stern look at his assumption of Sam and Abigail. "Just…different. But you and me?" Gordon gestured his hand to himself then to me, "We were born to do this. It's in our blood. Abs, however—"

His lips turned widened, "She's a lot closer to us than Sam is on a lot of things, her daddy and momma taught'er well—too well to be spent on things like a conscience and the rights and wrongs of hunting." Gordon leaned back with his beer in his hand, "She's got a lot of potential to become something great. Hell, her performance there at the mill was evident—she's just sitting on the fence." His shoulders hefted into a shrug, "Abigail just needs a _friendly_ push." I stared at him quietly, considering his words. Maybe he was right on a few things, and wrong about a couple. It was debatable.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Motel—Night**_

Sam slammed the passenger door loudly, "What the hell was that?" Sam asked in an accusing tone, eyes fixed on me as we stepped out of the Impala. I looked to him from across the roof quizzically.

"About what?" I asked.

He scoffed at me, "You know what I'm talking about." He ground out, "At the mill, at the _bar?_" I nodded, folding my hands across the roof, "I mean, it was like, you and Dean went to a completely different level of hunting! Then at the bar, it was like you couldn't even speak. What the _hell_?"

Oh. That. I sucked in a sharp breath, "Sammy, I—" I swallowed down a lump, "I don't know what the hell that was."

His eyes flickered to the night sky in a disbelieving manner, "Yeah, I'm sure you don't."

I blew out a hasty sigh, running my fingers through my hand tiredly, "I'm too tired to argue about this, Sammy…'sides, I don't think you'd understand."

"Then level with me, Abigail!" He exclaimed.

"What happened at the mill?" I kept a firm gaze on him, "At first, I-I wanted to get back on my game, be like what I was before everythin' went to hell, y'know?" The cross look on Sam's face softened, almost understandingly. He still held a stoic, cranky expression, "Then…it was like somethin' in the back of my mind just latched onto everythin' that was goin' on—the vamp, Gordon—_everythin'_…and I went berserk. Like, killin' was the only thing important. Like back in Salvation with the Colt…"

"What you and Dean did—" Sam couldn't even finish his sentence, and I hung my head, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth to bite it. I couldn't look at him. It was like I failed him too.

"I know it…" I muttered, readily convinced to tell him about what I've been going through. Since coming out of the coma, I've been able to feel too many things; from everyone around me. It just expanded every day, growing farther and farther, and the suppressing weight was immense. I blew out a shaky breath to avoid a burst of tears and emotions to break loose, "Sammy, whatever happened back there at the mill…whatever I felt…" I licked my lips, forcing myself to look at him, "I never want to feel that way again. I don't want to be some kind of monster… not with Megan in the picture now. I don't want her to find me acting like at the mill...ever. I don't want her to grow up hatin' me."

"Hey," Sam frowned, looking upset at my words, "Abigail, you're not a monster. Megan isn't gonna grow up hating you."

"Sammy, I'd rather stay off the job than feel that way again." I muttered, hoisting my shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. "Whatever Dean and Gordon has goin' on, I want no part of it. I don't trust the fucker," I shook my head, "Not one damn bit."

A look of relief washed over Sam, "You too?"

I nodded, "It's like I can sense that there's somethin' bad about him, like, he's the monster instead of that vampire." Sam suddenly pulled his cellphone out of his coat pocket, "What're you doin'?"

"Calling someone that might help." He said.

"Ellen?" Sam's lips quirked up into a smile.

"Hey, Ellen—Sam Winchester." He said suddenly, the put it on speakerphone.

"_Sam, it's good to hear from you._" Ellen's voice rang out. There was music and chatter in the background—it must've been busy at the Roadhouse, "_You three are okay, aren't you_?"

We glanced at each other, "Yeah." I cleared my throat, "Yeah, everythin's fine. We just, uh, got a question."

"_Yeah, shoot_." Ellen replied.

"You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asked.

There was a moment of hesitation, "_Yeah, I know Gordon_." Ellen replied nonchalantly.

Sam and I nodded to the phone eagerly for Ellen to continue despite the fact that she couldn't see us, "And?" Sam and I asked in chorus, glancing at our Jinx moment.

"_Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, sweetie_?"

"Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess." Sam explained, voice flat and full of distaste.

"_Don't do that, guys_." Ellen said quickly, urgency lacing her words. My brows rose at how quick her response was.

"I - I thought you said he was a good hunter." He stammered, confused by Ellen's sudden change.

"_Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist_." She quipped. I tilted my head in an agreeing fashion, earning a look from Sam. I shrugged at him. "_Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you guys just let him handle it and you move on_."

"Ellen—," Sam began, surprised at her urgent tone.

"_No, Sam. You and Abigail, just listen to what I'm telling you, okay_?" We fell silent, troubled that Dean was so hell-bent on working with this man. "_Abigail_, _you hear me?_"

I swallowed, "Right, okay." After a moment of saying our good-byes, Sam and I sat in unrequited silence. This was unbelievable…actually, no it wasn't. Neither of us were handling John's death in the best fashion. He was gone…not coming back. Yeah, I understood that after mine and Dean's knockdown drag-out at Ellen and Jo's place. Dean and Sam however…it was definitely hard on them. He was their foundation, their mentor for the life of being a hunter. Everything they knew, they knew from him, and he was taken from them.

I worked my jaw oddly, trying to keep my head in the present. I stood up abruptly, taking Sam by surprise at my movement. "I'm getting a pop. Wanna go with me?" I asked suddenly. Sam blinked at me, confused, then nodded.

"Yeah." He stood up from the edge of his bed, as we walked out of our motel room, "We need to tell Dean about Gordon, Abigail."

"I'd say we'd have to drag him away to do that," I muttered, "Knowin' him, he ain't gonna listen to us…it's like—"

"He's funneling everything into Gordon as some kind of substitute for dad." Sam said.

I looked at him sharply, feeling the familiar, dull ache of shame and remorse in my chest. I had felt a sliver of anger in the mix of that, knowing that it had come from Sam, "I have to say, Sam. I agree with ya on that." I fingered the dollar bill I had in my hand, glancing up and down the vending machine for something that was in the least bit appealing. As always, I chose my other man, _Dr. Pepper_, and with a pleasing thump, I reached down to get it. Sam got him an Aquafina, getting it out of the vending machine a moment later.

Halfway to the motel room, there was a sharp crack to our right, instantly alerting us. I stared into the darkness, eyes flickering over the tiniest of details for signs of a threat. There was definitely something there that was for sure. I hadn't felt that anxious, twinging sensation in my gut for a while, and it was oddly comforting.

"We should…head back." Sam suggested, sensing my discomfort. His always comforting, chocolate brown eyes kept throwing me cautious glances every moment or so that we were standing there, looking for whatever was lurking out there. I nodded, swatting his arm wordlessly to let him start walking. Following behind him, Sam fumbled with the keys for a moment before we entered the room, locking it behind us for good measure. Blowing out sighs of relief, we leaned against the door. I leaned over, placing my head against his shoulder for a second when something caught my attention from the corner of my eye.

A dark shadowy figure slinked in the room. It wasn't second later, I was shoving Sam out of the way as the figure's fist connected with the door. In retaliation, I swung out at the figure's head and connected nicely with a right hook to the person's face, then took out their legs. Apparently there was another one, due to Sam's fist connecting with some form of skin.

"Sam!" I called out, trying to alert him when the first attacker got back to his feet and slammed something into the back of my brother's head. I gasped out, readying myself for another round of trading licks, and felt something metal collide with the back of my head as well.

* * *

><p>Sometime later, I woke up bound and gagged. My vision was blurred due to something being over my head—a bag, I presumed—until it was jerked off, and I grimaced at the sudden surge of pain in my head. There were several other things swarming around me. Apprehension, hostility, anger—a demanding atmosphere. I looked over to see Sam staring at me wide eyed.<p>

"'ammy, 'ou o'ay?" I asked out, muffled by the gag. Sam nodded, jerking his head ahead, and I looked to see the bartender from the bar earlier. I furrowed my brows at him, bewildered at the pissed look. Then he bared his teeth—all of them—making me realize that he was a vampire. "'_it_" I swore as he began to advance Sam. We both started to struggle against our bonds. "'ou 'et away 'rom 'im!" I shouted, _still muffled_.

The bartender paused, cocking his head at me in an intrigued fashion. I narrowed my eyes at him, squirming underneath my bonds to get loose. Through everything I was feeling, something latched onto the hostility just like I had done back at the mill. His lips then curled back over his fangs in an animalistic snarl, advancing towards me.

"Wait! Step back, Eli." A woman's voice rang out from behind him. Obediently, the bartender—Eli—pulled back, his fang retracting as the woman walked over to Sam and pulled off his gag, then took a step towards me, pulling mine off, "My name's Lenore. I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk." I stared at her for a good long moment, assessing her. There was nothing but a yearning…but for what? To be heard?

Sam glanced to me, then back to her warily, "Talk?" he asked.

I scoffed despite what I felt. It was out of habit and many years of living with Winchesters. My mouth tip up into a sarcastic smirk, "Coulda fooled me." I quipped, earning a bitchface from Sam. I shrugged at him, then looked back to Lenore. Her only response to me was a slight twitch in her mouth.

She looked to him from over her shoulder, "He won't hurt you two. You both have my word." She stated, looking to the both of us. I fell silent, considering her words…maybe she had something here.

"Your word? Oh yeah, great, thanks." Sam scoffed, "Listen lady, no offense but you're not the first vampire we've met."

Lenore's eyes bored into his, "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans—" Sam turned his head to look at me. _A vampire that doesn't kill humans?_ I simply nodded in response to his gawking expression, "—and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time." She explained calmly.

Sam wasn't buying it. "What is this, some kind of joke?"

"Notice you're still alive." His mouth made the movement to make some kind of snide reply to her; only nothing came out. He kind of bobbed his mouth a few times like a fish, throwing me a look to help him.

"She has a point, Sam." I said lightly, meeting her approving gaze. Sam looked absolutely gob smacked. I took another moment to gather up a question—it wasn't like I got to have an interview with a vampire every day you know, "Okay. So, correct me if I'm wrong here," I said slowly, "but shouldn't you be starvin' to death?"

Lenore gave me an amused smile, "We've found other ways—cattle blood."

I tilted my head slightly, fully glancing to Sam, "Those mutilations—you're tellin us that was—"

"It's not ideal, in fact it's disgusting. But - it allows us to get by." Lenore explained, looking at me steadily. I tapped my fingers against the chair I was in, thinking once again. It was beginning to make sense.

"Okay, uh, why?" Sam asked.

"Sammy, don't you get it?" I asked, finally getting the picture. Sam and Lenore blinked in surprise, "They do it for survival…no deaths. No missin' locals."

Lenore's mouth twitched into a small, approving smile, "Exactly. We have no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in." She turned to Sam, trying to get him to understand like I was beginning to, "Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined."

Eli scoffed, "Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers—especially _her_?" His eyes narrowed at me, and a wave of anger hit me like a ton of bricks. I bowed my head in shame.

"Eli!" Lenore's voice barked out at him

He glared at her, defiantly, "We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer!" His hand extended to Sam and me, "Tonight they murdered Conrad and they celebrated!"

"Hold up!" I bit out, "Sam and I—we didn't celebrate! It wasn't our place."

Eli glared at me, "You're lying! _You_ were the one that cut off his head!" He advanced towards me, fangs extended, "You deserve to have your throat ripped out!" I shivered as a chill went up my spine. That was Dean and me. _I _delivered the blow that killed Conrad.

"Maybe I do!" I snapped, "What I did back there to your friend, nest mate, whatever the hell you wanna call Conrad—that is on me. Conrad's blood is on me—not Sam." Sam's mouth hung open in shock. I waggled my bound hand to Sam, seeing Eli's and Lenore's eyes move to him, "Do whatever you want to me, but don't you lay a hand on him." Consideration flashed in Eli's eyes, then he took a step towards me.

"Hey! Don't you touch her!" Sam jerked around in his seat to sway Eli's attention. He was oblivious, "You promised!" He shouted to Lenore.

"Eli, that's enough!" Lenore snapped, voice full of tension. Eli paused, staring at her firmly. In silence, they stared each other down like two wolves getting ready to have a showdown over their next meal.

"Yeah, Eli, that's enough." Sam mocked, earning a sharp look from me.

"What's done is done." She said to Eli, ignoring Sam's mockery, "We're leaving this town tonight."

"Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even telling us all of this?" I asked, wanting desperately to not believe everything that's been said. It was the exact opposite—these vampires…they were true to their words. It was just that kind of feeling.

Lenore then looked to me, "Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind. Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us."

"So you're asking us not to follow you." Sam said lightly.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone." She defended.

"Right, so you keep saying," Sam pressed, "but give _me_ one good reason why I should believe you since you already have my sister's vote." Lenore approached him, getting in his face.

"Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" She asked. Out of habit, I instantly thought the worse. I started prying and wriggling my hand in an attempt to get my hands loose, "I'm going to let you go." Sam and I looked at her, startled. That was the complete opposite of what I was thinking. Lenore's eyes flickered back to Eli and another vampire, "Take them back—not a mark on either of them."

Being cut loose, Eli and the other vampire lead us each to the truck, covering our heads with the sack again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Motel—Night**_

Abigail and Sam were nowhere in sight by the time Gordon and I had returned to the motel room. I was more than ready to go over our next strategy as to finding out where this vampire nest was hiding. With a map stretched out, I watched intently as Gordon drew out a line across it.

"This is the best pattern I can establish—it's sketchy at best." He said, taking a seat across from me. I peered down at it with pursed lips in thought. He had something going on, and it was piecing together.

"Looks like it's all coming from this side of town." I pointed out, circling that area of the map, "Which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?" I tapped my index finger to another area close by.

With an approving nod, Gordon smirked, "Yep, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty-five, forty farms out there." I nodded, taking note of several other areas, "I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good."

I sat down in my chair twisting open a cold beer, "Well, I guess we'll just have to search the other half." I thought for a moment, taking a look at my watch, with a frown. "What time is it? Where's Sam and Abigail?"

Gordon shrugged, "Car's parked outside. Probably went for a walk." He suggested, "They both seem like the take-a-walk type."

I nodded. Lately, Abigail is everything _but_ a homebody, "Yeah, they are, but Abigail normally doesn't just up and walk out on a job." I moistened my lips, glancing over to the clock on the nightstand and at the door. _Where the hell are they?_ My leg started bobbing up and down. _It was getting late—too late for me to be comfortable_.

The door to the motel room opened, causing me to stand and turn, seeing Sam and Abigail standing in the doorway. They didn't move any further into the room; Abigail was staring Gordon down like he was some monster and Sam gave me some kind of look. "Where have you two been?"

Abigail's jaw worked oddly, glancing between me and Gordon, "Can I borrow my boyfriend for a moment?" Gordon's brows raised in surprise at her tone. The both of them didn't quite give him or me time to speak, because as soon as Abigail spoke, they turned and went back out the door.

I laughed, embarrassed at their behavior, "You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?" He nodded, remaining seated at the table. I walked out of the room, spotting them both standing by the Impala—a safe distance away from the motel room and out of earshot of Gordon.

"Dean, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt." Sam began, not giving me time to speak or chew them out for how they were being.

I scoffed, "What are you talking about?" I looked to the both of them, "Where were you two?"

Abigail held a firm gaze with mine, "In the nest."

_Whoa. That was unexpected_. I blinked, taken aback at this discovery, and instantly started looking for any signs of injuries on the both of them, "You found it?" _Okay, I sounded a little impressed and excited for them—I knew they were good, but hot damn!_ _Neither of them came out unscathed! I definitely didn't give Sammy or Abs enough credit—_

Sam shook his head, "They found _us_, man."

I blinked, not sure what I heard was real. "What?" I asked, glancing to my girlfriend for confirmation. Her jaw was set, and she nodded her head. I started firing off questions left and right like, '_How'd you get out?'_ and '_How many'd you kill?'_ noticing how irritable Abigail and Sam were getting. Her eyes narrowed at me slightly.

"None." She deadpanned.

I choked out a laugh. _They had to be joking_! "Abs, they didn't just let you guys go out from the goodness of their hearts."

"That's exactly what they did." She defended. Sam stood beside her, nodding in compliance to every word she said. _This was unbelievable_!

"Alright, well, where is it?" I asked, talking about the nest. Abigail and Sam fell silent, chewing on the sides of their cheeks. I raised my brows at them as a way of saying, _continue._ Surely they had something!

Abigail let loose of her bottom lip, "We were blindfolded." She explained, "We don't know."

"Well, you've got to know something." I deadpanned.

"We went over that bridge outside of town," Sam said, "but Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them." He was beginning to look all worked up and concerned. Concerned about what? The leeches? Surely not!

I furrowed my brows at them, "Why not?"

"I don't think they're like other vampires, Dean." Abigail said, "I really don't think they're killing people."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Gordon was right—about Sam, about _Abigail_. "You're joking." Abigail threw her arms up in exasperation, "Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are."

"The cattle mutilations—," Sam brought up, "They said they live off of animal blood."

"And you believed them?" I asked staring at both Sam and Abigail, incredulously.

"Look at me, Dean. Look at Abigail." He tried to reason with me, "They let us go without a scratch."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Abs, tell me you don't believe this crap!" She said nothing, "You just helped me gank one, not even three hours ago, and now you're with them?"

Abigail sent me a withering look, "I'm not sure what I want to believe, Dean. But the vampires are sounding like my team choice."

I scoffed, "Wait, so you're saying..." I shook my head at them, "No. No way." I refused to think they were being reasonable. It was far from it! "I don't know why they let you go—I don't really care. We find 'em—we waste 'em."

Abigail's eyes widened, "Why?"

"What part of '_vampires_' don't you understand, Abs?" I barked out, quickly losing my temper, "If it's supernatural, we kill it—end of story. That's our job."

"No, _Dean,_ that is not our job." She bit out, "Our job is huntin' _evil_. And if these things aren't killin' people, they're not evil!"

I took a step toward her, almost bringing us chest to chest. She didn't back down from me, or look away. Abigail was firmly planted in her spot, "Of course they're killing people, that's what they do, Abigail! They're all the same. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them."

This time, Sam stepped in, pushing me back a couple of steps to stand between Abigail and I, "No, Dean, I don't think so, alright? Not this time."

I motioned my arm back to the motel room, "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows."

Sam scoffed, "_Gordon_?"

"Yes."

Sam's eyes narrowed at me, "You're taking his word for it?"

I nodded firmly, "That's right."

"Ellen says he's bad news." He said, throwing a glance back to Abigail, who looked like she was about to kill something—or me, preferably.

"You—you called Ellen?" Sam nodded, "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam, no thanks, I'll go with Gordon."

Abigail let out a condescending laugh, her lips tipping upwards into a sneer, "Right, 'cause Gordon's such an old friend." She deadpanned, "You don't think we can see what this is?"

I looked between the both of them, "What are you talking about?"

"He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he?" Sam deadpanned.

Abigail snorted, "A poor one."

I glared at the both of them, biting back a well of fury that broiled deep within my chest, "Shut up…both of you."

Sam kept on, "He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day."

My arms flew up and I grinned at them both, "You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this—not to you two." Sam stared at me defiantly while Abigail's eyes bored holes. I could almost feel the heat from them. I turned my back to the both of them, intent on getting back to the motel and leave with Gordon to the nest.

"You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it." Abigail said coldly. I froze. "Because I know how you feel, Dean."

"Hell, the both of us do." Sam added. I slowly turned back around, staring at them casually, "Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to." I stared at Abigail, seeing her eyes glitter with unshed tears, "It's an insult to his memory, as well as an insult to me, Abigail, and Megan."

I worked my jaw oddly, "Okay." I turned, and at that time, I balled my hand into a fist fully intended on fighting my brother. There was a quick shuffle of feet when I lashed out, and connected a hard punch, square into Abigail's jaw. She was right where Sam was supposed to be. Where _I _was supposed to punch _him_, not her. She fell flat on her ass, eyes wide.

When I realized what I had done, time stood still, and I found it hard to breathe. _I didn't just hit her_. I blinked, several times. _I didn't_. Sam was standing a few feet behind Abigail, shell-shocked. His mouth was hanging open. I remained frozen in my spot, staring down in disbelief. Abigail brought her hands up, inspecting it for a moment in shock, running her fingers against her palms—she was bleeding. Then she worked her jaw oddly, and spit at the space between her knees—it was nothing but blood. Dread overwhelmed me. I took a step forward to help her up, only to stop at the looks from both her and Sam.

"Abs, I—," I fumbled over my words like some idiot. Abigail pushed off her bleeding hands, to her feet where she held my gaze coldly.

"What's next? Another car?" I averted my eyes to the ground. Not again. This is my fault, "Y'know, you can _try_ to hit Sam all you want. Hell, you can hit me—it ain't gonna change a damn thing about us, about Dad, or about Gordon."

"Yeah, well…I'm going to that nest." I forced myself to say, "You two don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself." I turned my back to them, heading back to the motel room in search of Gordon. I ignored Sam calling out after me. What's done, is done. I couldn't take what I did, back. Walking into the motel room, Gordon was nowhere in sight, "Gordon?"

"You think he went after them?" Sam asked, stopping short behind me.

I shrugged, "Probably."

"Dean, we have to stop him." He said.

I scoffed, "Really, Sam? Because I say we lend a hand."

His eyes narrowed at me, "Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that. If not me, then you owe Abigail."

I grimaced, "Yeah, we'll see." I muttered, holding my hand out, "I'll drive. Give me the keys."

Sam pointed to a table; my keys were gone, "He must've snaked the keys." I groaned, "I think you're gonna have to hot-wire the Impala."

Two minutes later, Sam was in the passenger side seat while Abigail was in the backseat. I was under the steering wheel, hotwiring the car and grimaced, "I can't believe this." I grunted out, "I just fixed her up, too." With a pleasing roar of Baby's engine, I grunted and slid out, looking to Sam, "So the bridge, is that, uh, is that all you got?"

"The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm." Sam replied.

I arched my brow at him, revving the engine to the car, "How do you know?"

"We counted." Abigail deadpanned, tracing a path on the map in the backseat. Sam careened his head to look at her while I maneuvered the rearview mirror. She glanced up from the map at us, "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge."

I looked over to Sam, astounded, "You're good." I commented, seeing her send me a sharp look before I looked ahead, pulling the Impala into reverse, "Granted, you're both a monster pain in the ass, but you're good. Both of you."

"Shut up and drive, Dean." Abigail said curtly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Farmhouse—Night**_

It had taken us four and half minutes exactly to get back to the farmhouse. We were at the right place because I was torn between doubling over in pain and ripping someone's throat out. Just outside of the barn, Gordon's red El Camino sat. This wasn't good. Sam and I were out of the car before Dean could fully stop and cut the engine, making a beeline to the farmhouse.

We paused in front of the double doors, hearing Lenore's pained groans. I swayed a little, unsure that Sam had caught that until his hand shot out to catch me. I looked up at him, meeting his worried gaze.

"You okay?" He asked.

I grimaced, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost my balance." Dean approached us, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans instead of carrying a machete. I raised a brow at him, glancing up at Sam inquisitively. He shrugged in response before Dean paused in front of us. _So he may have put Sam's words into consideration_.

Pushing open the barn door, we stepped inside to see Gordon dipping his knife into a jar of congealed blood—dead man's blood, to be exact. My eyes fell upon Lenore, allowing a gasp to escape at the state she was in. Gordon had tied her to a chair nearby, covered in cuts; some shallow and some deeper than others, and her complexion was pale and sickly. The side-effects of what the blood did to a vamp.

Gordon circled around her, slicing her across the chest with the knife as he did so, "Sam, Dean, Abigail—come on in." He greeted us like old friends. I sucked in a sharp breath, _feeling _every bit of that blade's bite. It was searing, and was hard to conceal my discomfort.

Dean stared at his comrade warily, "Hey, Gordon. What's going on?"

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood." He responded to Dean, matter-of-factly. "She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you?" Lenore glared at him wearily when he turned his back on her, "Wanna help?"

There was this halting, uneasy feeling resonating from Dean. Was he reconsidering Gordon? Dean breathed out a heavy sigh, "Look, man—." He shifted uneasily at the sight before him.

"Grab a knife." Gordon cut him off, gesturing to a nearby table, "I was just about to start in on the fingers." He drug the knife across Lenore's arm once more with the blade covered in dead man's blood. I cringed, grinding my teeth at the pain. I couldn't break focus—not now.

Dean held his hands out to Gordon in a diffusing gesture, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?"

Gordon held his gaze on Dean with an eerily calm expression. He certainly wasn't our first unreasonable person we'd come across, and he most certainly wasn't going to be our last, "I'm completely chill."

I slowly took a step forward, "Gordon, put the knife down." Dean's arm swung out, capturing me by the waist to stop me. The tension in the general area was so full of static, it could've been fashioned into an electric storm. Sheer hostility—a murderous animosity—broiled from Gordon, sending chills up my spine while genuine concern reigned from Sam and Dean.

"Sounds like it's Abby here who needs to chill. What happened Dean? Thought you said she's too strung out to be out here—might kill'er." Gordon didn't take his eyes off me, a sneer tugging at his lips as he addressed Dean. I glared at him. There was no way I was 'strung out', what the hell was Dean thinking?!

"Just step away from her, alright?" Sam said tersely from where he stood beside Dean and I, and surprisingly, Gordon heeded his words by tossing down the knife on the table. I eyed him suspiciously, there was something more to what he was leading on.

"You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery." Gordon reached behind him, pulling out a larger knife—a machete in a black, leather sheath. It got so quiet in there, you could almost hear a pin drop. Gordon slid it out, inspecting it with a grin, "I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

He made a move towards the weakened vampire and I moved in front of her, blocking Gordon's path, "It'll be a cold day in hell if I let you touch 'er. Sam's gonna let her go." I kept my eyes on him in a glare as he laughed.

Gordon pointed the machete at Sam, stopping him, "He's not gonna do a damn thing."

"Hey, hey, hey, Gordon," Dean said quickly, "let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Gordon asked, "It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray."

"Yeah. I hear ya." Dean tried to reason with him, throwing a worried look to both Sam and I. "And I know how you feel." His voice was low and controlling, _far_ from what he was feeling—angered and concerned.

"Do you?" Gordon's face held a steely expression.

"That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one..." Gordon burst out into a maniacal laugh, interrupting him.

"_Killed_ my sister?" Gordon's gave us a toothy grin, "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her." Dean blinked in confusion—he'd been played a food by him, "It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."

Dean looked livid, "You did what?"

"It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you if it were either of them, or your little girl." I bristled up at the mention of my daughter, snapping my head to glare at Dean. His face was ridden with horror and anger.

_Dean told him about—about Megan_?! I couldn't hardly breathe, "So you knew all along, then?" Sam deadpanned, taking the heat, "You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care."

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it." Gordon grabbed Sam by the arm, slicing the machete across it, and held the blade against his throat, dragging him towards Lenore. Dean grabbed me, pulling me behind him and pulled his gun out.

"Let him go. Now!" Dean demanded, his eyes flashing with fury. I pulled my weapon out on him as well, rage surging through me.

"Relax. If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor." Gordon told us, still remaining calm. However, his eyes held a dark, psychotic gleam, "Just making a little point." We watched in horror as Gordon held out Sam's cut arm over Lenore so that his blood dripped onto her face. As a reaction, she hissed, her fang extending.

"Hey!" I barked out.

"You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty." I clenched my jaw, catching Dean's guilty and apologetic look. I focused back on Lenore, watching as she controlled herself, and turned her face away muttering, _no_ pitifully. My chest clenched out of sympathy—I felt her fighting off that urge.

"You hear her, Gordon?" Sam hissed out, pushing the knife away from his throat, and pushed Gordon away from him, "We're done here."

Dean and I remained fixed in our places, guns drawn on Gordon, "Sam, get her out of here." Dean ordered. Sam came forward to untie Lenore and picked her up. Gordon stepped towards him, but we still had our guns trained on him.

"If you're feelin' froggy ole boy," I warned him. Gordon stared at us with vehemence.

"Get out of my way." He said.

I shook my head, "Not a chance."

"Gordon, I think you and I've got some things to talk about." Dean said.

A scoff left Gordon's mouth as he watched Sam leave with Lenore. "You're not serious."

"I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw." Dean hung his head as he shook it in his own disbelief while I kept a firm lock on Gordon's scheming ass, "If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me and Abs."

Gordon nodded, considering his words. He looked down at his knife a second, then jammed it into the table, "Fine." Dean glanced to me, then down at our weapons. _So this was going to be a knockdown drag-out. We were pretty good at those_, considering. We popped our clips out simultaneously, setting them off to the side. Like I had done Sam, I jumped in front of Dean upon anticipating Gordon's move.

Gordon lunged forward to punch him, only to hit me and sent me to the ground. Dean then lunged forward promptly to punch him in the face. Recuperating quickly, I stood up, watching the two men fight ferociously. Dean and Gordon's fists swung out and connected into each other a couple of times, when Dean punched him, sending the elder hunter backwards a couple of steps.

His hand flew out, snatching up the knife he held and went after Dean until I lunged at him, punching Gordon in the jaw. He turned as fast as lighting, turning on me and punched me again in the jaw before he brought his left hand—and the knife—across my chest, which was intended to go after my throat. A pained cry ripped from my mouth at the searing pain, stumbling backwards until my boot got hung up on a piece of equipment and I fell. I hit my head against something _hard, _putting me in a temporary daze_._ Gordon laughed darkly, "Women don't make good hunters," He taunted, "Shoulda stayed at home, sweetheart."

I glared at him, despite the fact that I was in sheer agony, "Bite me." Dean blindsided Gordon, making him drop the knife and sent them both crashing to the ground. Dean had the upper hand; one of his hands had a death grip on Gordon's shirt and jacket while he drove his other fist into the side of his face. He was relentless.

There was a moment where Dean paused, hearing Gordon's labored breathing, "What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang?" Dean panted, rage radiating off of him, "Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here."

Dean shook his head, "I don't think so, you sadistic bastard."

With all his might, Gordon managed to break free of Dean's hold and shoved him backwards, "You're not like your brother, or your girlfriend! You're a killer, like me." I got to my feet, ready to go another round with him, despite the pain. Gordon got to his feet, eyeing me like a wolf readying himself to kill a lamb—except, I wasn't a defenseless lamb.

He lunged at me again, this time I reciprocated and dodged him, slamming my heel into his leg sending him stumbling. "No, he's not." I bit out, watching his movements carefully. The three of us were beaten and bloodied, "You come near me, or my daughter," I breathed out, "I won't hesitate to kill you."

"You don't scare me, little girl." He sneered, lunging once again, only to be caught by Dean and hauled him against the wall. Dean's elbow lashed out with a fierce intent, knocking the man out. Pinning him under his elbow, he slammed Gordon's head into another wall.

"Oh, sorry." Dean grunted out with no indication of an apology in his voice. Slowly, I approached Dean to help him set Gordon's limp body in the same chair Lenore was tied up in and bound his arms and legs, "You know, I might be like you, and I might not." Dean took a step back, blowing out a heavy sigh, "But you're the one tied up right now."

I staggered back a couple of steps finding it hard to breathe. Dean's eyes found their way to mine, but I just turned away from him, heading out of the barn. "Abigail." I clenched my jaw upon hearing him call after me. Another couple of feet, I felt his hand grab my elbow to turn me around and I lashed out at him, sending my left fist into his jaw. He took a couple of steps back, wide-eyed.

"I don't need to explain myself on that." My voice wavered between emotions and pain. Dean merely nodded, staring at the deep gash that was across my chest, guilt flooding me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I was in so much pain since the adrenaline wore off. My clothes were ruined due to blood soaking the front of my shirt. What blood dried, conformed to my body in a sticky mess.

"I'm sorry." His voice croaked out, "Abs, I'm—I'm so sorry." I remained fixed in my place, willing away the pain. "That wasn't supposed to happen—"

"It wasn't supposed to happen to _me_." I cut him off, staring at him in a pained expression. His narrowed eyes softened from anger to guilt.

"Why?" He breathed out. I merely shrugged my shoulders at him in response, I didn't have to see Dean's face to know that he was mad, "Don't give me that shit, Abigail! Why'd you do that?"

"Someone's gotta protect you two when no one else will," I replied indifferently.

Dean scoffed at me, "I can handle myself, Abigail. I didn't need you to take a hit for me."

"Yeah, well, I did." I ground out, "Now I've got a matchin' pair of black eyes; one from you, one from Gordon." Dean visibly grimaced at my insult, "And lemme tell you somethin' Dean…I'm very much capable of fendin' for myself. I'm not _strung out_, I'm not helpless." Dean swallowed hard, "I don't know what you think of me, and I don't really care." I chewed on my cheek out of anger, "Truth is, I could care less about getting the shit knocked out of me. I could do that all day. What has me pissed off to where I can't see straight, is the fact that _you_ endangered our daughter. Not me, _you_." Dean hung his head, shame-faced, "You're her father, Dean! You're. Supposed. To _protect her_!"

"Abigail, I wasn't thinking." He said, "I just thought—"

"Thought what?" I prompted him, "Thought that it would be okay to brag about our kid to someone we don't even know?! To a fucked up individual that killed his own sister?!"

"He had no choice." Dean defended.

I scoffed, "Could you do that to me?"

"What?" Dean stared at me, taken aback.

"Could you do that to me and not even bat an eye?" I asked firmly, "I want to know, Dean. Could you just kill me, or Sammy, or Megan out of cold blood?" I watched through tear soaked lashes at the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"I'm not answering that," He said definitively.

My lips quirked into a knowing smirk, "Because you can't, Dean. Imagine what he would've done if left in the same room with our kid." Dean's face scrunched into a look of shame. I let out a soft sound, like that of a whimper and scoff and stared up at the night sky briefly. The heaviness of this night's event weighed in on me, and a memory slipped into my mind. I started laughing like some idiot, gasping out in pain with each breath.

Dean's brows scrunched together in confusion, then looked absolutely bewildered and worried when and I brought my blood-covered hand to my mouth when I my laughter rolled into sobbing. He closed the gap between us quickly, and pulled me against him, ignoring my blood-soaked clothes. His right hand found it's way to the back of my head, guiding it down to his shoulder where he rested the side of his face against mine.

"You and Sam was right, Abs." Dean whispered hoarsely, "You two were right about everything…Gordon, the vampires…" His chest expanded sharply, "I was too stupid to listen to you. I ignored everything in my gut because I was so hell-bent on a hunt." He pulled away, tears glittering in the illumination of the moon and gained a far off look, "I miss him, Abs."

"I do too." I muttered, smearing blood across my face from wiping away tears.

"I miss the hell outta him." He admitted, allowing a lone, stray tear to escape, "It's like, I have this _void_ in me…and it feels like it's just getting bigger and bigger." His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, "And it's like, no matter what I do…" He hung his head, shaking it.

"It doesn't change a thing…" I finished for him, brokenly. Dean nodded slowly. "Tougher than a pine knot…" I mused, earning a softened look from my boyfriend. He did a miserable attempt at laughing.

"God, he was. They both were." Dean agreed reminiscing about our fathers. "I used to think Dad was virtually indestructible—nothing could kill him. Ever since we were kids." He brought his hand up to his face to wipe away a tear.

"Destiny…" I scoffed out.

Dean's mouth curved up at me wryly, "_Totally_, destiny."

* * *

><p>It was morning by the time Sam had returned. I was situated on a stack of hay bales within eyeshot of Dean, resting my eyes. I had long since peeled my shirt off of me and had it held against my chest to slow the bleeding with Dean's jacket wrapped securely around me and zipped up. Dean was pacing around the room, throwing dirty looks to Gordon, and in return, received them.<p>

Sam halted, seeing the three of us battered and bloodied, "Did I miss anything?"

Dean and I exchanged a look. I shook my head at him, "Nah, not much. Lenore get out okay?"

"Yeah. All of 'em did." He emphasized, seeing Gordon's jaw tighten at the news. I smiled at him smugly.

"Good." I said, seeing Dean nod in agreement, helping me down off the bales, still holding Gordon's knife.

"Then I guess our work here is done." He told Sam, turning to look at Gordon, "How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?" Gordon glared at him and me. We grinned at him, "Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you." Dean twirled the knife a time or two in his hand before jamming it as hard as he could into the table behind Gordon.

"Ready to go?" I asked, seeing Dean look to me, then flickered to Sam.

"Not yet." He said to me, pulling away from my waist, turning to Gordon, "I guess this is goodbye." I smiled at how bashful he appeared to be, "Well, it's been real." Dean dealt him a nice uppercut to the chin, knocking the man backwards, and as a result, topple the chair backwards with a painful crash. I winced, feeling all too satisfied, realizing that it was coming from Dean, "Oh, and to clarify, Abs is twice the hunter you could ever think about being, Gordy." He turned back around with a smug grin, wrapping his arm around my waist and planted a kiss to my temple, "Okay, I'm good now." He told Sam, "We can go."

Exiting the farmhouse, we all winced at our injuries. Dean had wrapped Sam's left arm in a bandage, and he was scratching at it. Dean had also tended to my chest, cleaning it thoroughly, and stitched it, then bandaged it, as well as cleaning the little cuts and scrapes I had on my face. I had cleaned the cuts and scrapes Dean himself was sporting from his brawl with Gordon.

"Sam?" I paused when Dean's arm fell away from my waist, turning to see him spread his feet apart like a boxer's, "Clock me one."

Sam furrowed his brows, "What?"

Dean motioned his brother to punch him, "Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go."

"No." Sam said incredulous, "If anyone gets to clock you one, it's Abigail."

Dean shook his head, "Abs already did, it's your turn. Let's go, you get a freebie. Hit me, come on." Dean just readied himself while Sam scoffed and waved his hand at his brother's ridiculous request.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check, besides, I think Abigail already did a number on you." Sam replied, taking the passenger rear door. He motioned for me to ride up front.

"I wish we never took this job." Dean said suddenly looking up at us with knitted brows, "It's jacked everything up."

I rounded the Impala, pausing at the passenger side door, "What do you mean?"

"Think about all the hunts we went on, guys, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing?" He asked, "You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us..."

"Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could." Sam reassured him.

Dean looked to his brother guiltily, "I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it." He looked to me, "I don't know about you, Abs…"

Sam turned his head to me with a frown. I bit my lip, wincing, "It wasn't my proudest moments in this job, I'll keep it at that. But you didn't kill Lenore," I added.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all." Dean replied.

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't." Sam said, "And that's what matters."

"Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass, and Abigail's always right." Sam laughed while I smiled. Lord knows I wanted to laugh, but I wasn't going to chance it. I patted the roof of the Impala, sinking into the front seat, leaving the two men to talk. Moments later, Sam got in the backseat, then Dean in the driver's seat. Starting the engine, Dean pulled away from the farmhouse, leaving Gordon Walker behind. I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the man, but I was more than ready to see my daughter.

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><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View <strong>_

_"Okay, that's everybody" said the doctor, "Time of death—10:41 AM."_

_No. This can't be! Dad couldn't be dead, I thought as they turned off the monitors and I barely heard Abigail's wailing. The man who raised me and Sam, the one who took Abigail in as if she was one of his own—gone. He was supposed to be here to take down the demon…to watch my daughter grow up. I was reeling in shock. He had been hunting the demon all of his life trying to avenge mom, and now, something got to him._

_"Dean!" I heard Sam call out. I wanted to turn, but I couldn't take my eyes off of my dad's corpse._

_"Dean!" I heard Sam call out again, only this time it was different. "Dean!" It was urgent. I heard monitors go off again._

_"She's in tachycardia, close to flat lining. Get the crash cart stat!" said the doctors. I turned, seeing Abigail's gown get cut to expose her bare chest. _This can't be happening. _I felt my heart clench painfully. _Not again. _"Abigail!" I called out, forcing myself to move from where I stood to try and do something. A pair of arms held me back._

_"Dean, no!" It was Sam. I wanted him to let me go. I had to get to Abigail, she needed me!_

_"Clear!" shouted the doctor as he placed the paddles on her chest. I watched her arch up lifeless. My breath got caught in my throat. _She can't die_, I told myself, _she can't die, she can't die_._ She won't.

_"We have a pulse."_

I shot up in the bed, remembering that I was in our room at Bobby's. Breathing heavily, I looked at the clock, and I saw that it was three o'clock in the morning. I laid back down scrubbing my hands down my face roughly. I was exhausted—too tired to think straight. I worried constantly that I was gonna lose Abs permanently. I reached out to touch Abigail's sleeping form to reassure myself, to keep myself levelheaded, and know that she was here.

She was sleeping heavily—much better than what it had been. I gently turned her to lay on her back and she let out a grunt of protest, scrunching her face in pain from her chest when her arm came up to scratch at herself. I frowned, taking her arm away from her stitches, and saw her settle down into a dormant state. I studied her for a minute; frowning at her battered face and I slowly placed my fingers on the side of her neck to check her pulse—it had become a ritual of mine despite everything. I _needed_ to feel that she was still fighting and felt a steady pulse on her neck. I felt ridiculous that I would do something like that to her, but it was the only thing I could do to placate myself.

I must've sat up for a few hours sitting through various replays of the previous day's events, wallowed in the lowest points of that day, and savored what time things were alright; which wasn't a lot. I traced the side of her face with my fingertips, watching her closely for signs that she would awake. Gingerly laying my head on her chest, the sound of her heart beating was the most beautiful sound I have heard since this crap with dad happened. It was one of the few things in my life that I valued more than myself. I straightened back up, wiping another tear from my eyes, as she turned on her side and reached her arm out in search of me. I laughed quietly at that gesture, and settled back in beside her. It wasn't long that Abigail had worked her way to situate herself so that her chest didn't hurt her as bad, and nestled her head on my chest.

I loved this girl more than life, and I screwed it up on several times. She was a forgiving person—protective. I didn't want to think about how many more chances I had until I fucked it up so bad, she'd leave. My chest clenched painfully, causing me to pull her against me tighter, smelling the fruity scent of her hair, "I love you, Abs…" I muttered into her hair, "God knows, I do."

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><p><strong>How 'bout this chapter?! Something is definitely going on with Dean and Abigail, and I believe Abigail is going to get down to it in the next chapter and it is gonna. make. your. jaws. drop!<strong>

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as thanking**** _grapejuice101 _for ****giving me suggestions as to what I wrote. I can't thank you girls enough!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter-<em>Thoughtless<em> by Korn**

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><p><strong><span>grapejuice101<span>- Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me! I hope you liked this chapter!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! There's something definitely going on from the looks of everything!**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! Ugh! I know! He makes me have unrealistic expectations in men! haha.**

**deangirlforever85- Thank you! Is it wrong of me to say that I love hearing that, because I really do! It lets me know I'm doing something right for my readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**

**giddyfan- Thank you! If there's anything that you think could improve future chapters, just shoot me a PM! I'd love to hear what you have in mind! (:**

**angelicedg- Ugh! I loved writing that (and anything pertaining to daddy!dean and him and abigail)! I get all giddyfied over fluffy stuff! Sometimes things gotta be hard before they start getting better, and I believe that things will begin to straighten out in the next couple of chapters (maybe). Woo! That's awesome! Nothing's better than curling up and reading a good ole fanfic! haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter dear! c:**


	7. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

**WARNING: There is drug use in this chapter. If you don't like it, feel free to skip the parts!**

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><p><em>Every time I try to get a little closer<em>

_You shut down and the conversation's over_

_I'm right here, but you leave me in the dark_

_Show me your private parts._

_Give it up baby, what are you afraid of_

_Love sucks when you don't know what it's made of_

_We get naked but I can't undress your heart_

_Show me your private parts, show me your private parts_

_I can't remember the last time that this felt real_

_(I would've cut you out, if I didn't love you)_

_And how can you blame me for feelin' the way I feel?_

_(I'm not blaming you, I'm just tryin' to figure it out)_

_I can take a little hesitating, I'll wait forever if it's worth the waiting_

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><p><em><strong>August 29<strong>__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Road—Day**_

The Impala zoomed down the desolate highway. I sat up front where I had a front row seat to Dean's complaining about Sam's wanting to visit their mother's 'grave'. I massaged my temples for the hundredth time at the headache that was beginning pound at my head. There were two sides of the ensuing argument, and I knew both of them. I was better off finding a cave to hole up in than put my two cents in. Besides, the flurry of aggravation, annoyance, and uncertainty flying from both men were about to drive me up the wall.

"Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid." Dean implored, turning his eyes up at the rearview mirror to peer back at Sam—he was going to fight him tooth and nail until there was nothing left of him.

Sam stared back at his brother, befuddled, "Why?" I mentally groaned out of indignation. It was his tenth time asking that. _What was this? His sophomore year again?_

"Going to visit Mom's grave?" Dean reiterated what we were doing, again. I peered down at the latest issue of _Field & Stream_ with an icy glare to a nice twelve point buck staring back at me in hopes that I could block out the two squabbling brothers.

"She doesn't even have a grave!" His voice cut through and I closed the magazine with an irritated sigh. I couldn't recollect how many times I would hear him tell me that when we would talk, "There was no body left after the fire." I frowned at his defensive tone, growing somewhat apprehensive.

"She has a headstone." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, put up by her uncle—a man we've never even met." Dean's hand tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, "So you wanna, go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger—"

"Dean, enough." I finally said, cutting him off. Dean turned his head to glower at me—he was agitated as it was with Sam's constant pining. Hell, we both were, but what really had us on edge was Megan. She had to have a correction surgery for her cleft hard and soft palate—as well as she ate, you'd never think she had one to begin with—scheduled in the next few days, "Sam just want to pay his respects to her memory…" I added.

"Oh, so now you're siding with him?" He accused.

I raised a brow at him, "I'm not takin' anyone's side. You do what you want, Sam does what he wants. You don't _have_ to see the headstone when Sam does." I looked over my shoulder to see Sam giving me a grateful look.

"Besides," Sam said lightly, "after Dad it just... just feels like the right thing to do." I clamped my mouth shut as both Dean and I stiffened in our seats. Things just got uncomfortable again.

"It's irrational, is what it is." Dean grumbled, shifting around in his seat.

"Look, man. No one asked you to come." Sam said sounding—surprisingly—understanding. It was one of the many firsts of the day.

"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead?" Dean asked, "I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down." I shook my head at Dean's words. That's all he was wanting to do. Hunt. Bury himself in the job so that he couldn't face reality. Drink himself into oblivion. At least, this had been as of late.

"That's a good idea, you both should." Sam said, causing me to turn around in the seat, "Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you guys there tomorrow."

I regarded Dean uneasily._ Was Sam being serious right now?_

"Hell, instead of that, maybe you two could go do your own thing somewhere and _talk _things through. I'm sure there's a lot of things to _talk_ about." Sam suddenly added growing exasperated again. Pointing out the fact that there had been a considerable amount of friction between Dean and I proved to be an uncomfortable subject. I frowned, knowing that it was driving him up the wall, there was no guessing that.

Dean cast a glance at me like a kid guilty of doing something. His brows were knitted together, eyes full of worry, and seemed unnerved that we had gotten ourselves so out of hand that _Sam_ was beginning to see it. I looked down at my lap, shame-faced. _How could we be that careless_? Then again, who _couldn't_ hear us arguing all hours of the night and one of us charging out of the house in a whirlwind, or throwing objects around? Deep down, there was something wrong, and Dean knew the cause of it. Why? Because I felt it when he looked at me and our daughter, and never bothered to tell me.

Like the flick of a switch, the worried, guilty expression that held refuge on his face was swiped clean into an irritated look. "Right, thanks for the not-so-subtle hint, Dr. Phil." Dean grumbled out, "But everything's good on the home front."

"Is it?" Sam deadpanned with a raised brow.

Dean's head dipped with a cocky expression gracing his features, "Yep. Peachy. A-Okay." I felt Sam's eyes on me and I squirmed uncomfortably, "Aren't we, Abs?"

I forced myself to smile, "Never better, like peas and carrots."

"See?" Dean stated, getting increasingly smug at my response, "All good."

Sam sat back with a resigned look, shaking his head at us. "You two are unbelievable." He huffed out. A flurry of emotions formed an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. I could've thrown myself out of the barreling car and felt better than what I was going through! Then out of the swirling chaos, I felt a deep sense of longing as Dean's right hand left the steering wheel, taking my hand from my lap, and held it tightly as if it were his lifeline.

Glancing at me once more, I could see how worried he was about _us_. We weren't fine and we both knew that. After a few uncomfortable seconds, I slid across the seat to tuck myself underneath his arm, winding it around me, and laid my head against his shoulder despite the painful clench in my chest.

_Yep, just peachy._ I thought, focusing my eyes on the road with him. _All good on the home font._

Dean scoffed suddenly, "Stuck with those people…" Implying his earlier suggestion of the Roadhouse. "Making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks." He squeezed his arm around me tightly, "To be honest with you two, I'd rather be back at the NICU." Sam merely grunted in the backseat, yet again, annoyed.

"I second that," I muttered.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Illinois<strong>_

_**Graveyard—Day**_

Three (hair-pulling) hours later, Dean pulled into the cemetery and we got out, heading through a set of old, wrought-iron gates. Dean slowed down a bit, allowing Sam to walk ahead of us. He turned, realizing what was going on.

"I'm only going to take a few minutes." He told us before continuing ahead. Like all cemeteries, they gave me the creeps. Silent, peaceful, a place for rest and—at times—our stomping grounds for desecrating graves. Leaves were beginning to turn colors, nothing drastic, just splotchy places of green and yellow. Typical late-summer foliage.

"You don't have to stay back with me, you know." Dean said gesturing his head over to Sam. We took a moment watching him kneel down at a headstone. I sunk my hands into my pockets, emphasizing a sigh.

"I'm good with stayin' here." Dean arched a brow at me as we walked away from our spot, "'sides, it's not my place."

"Why do you say that?" He asked me, "You knew Mom."

I shrugged, "I knew _of_ her, I didn't _know_ her like my Mom and Dad did." Further away from Sam, I began to become utterly uncomfortable.

"Would you go—" I knew where his question was going and I stopped, narrowing my eyes at him.

"_No_." Dean blinked at me.

"You mean, you wouldn't even go to their graves?" He asked, genuinely confused.

I shook my head, "Not a chance…I don't even know if they have graves." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and folded my arms, wincing at the pull of my stitches. Dean only nodded, understanding. It was one of the things about Dean that set him apart from his brother—he didn't push or pull like Sam did. _There's always a reason behind someone not going back_, he once said. I knew my reason, he knew his and I felt it. Overburdened with guilt.

Dean's eyes fell to my chest, "How you holding up?"

"It itches." I replied simply, knowing he was asking about my stitches. We paused under a tree, allowing Dean to reach out and pull my shirt down a hair to see the stitches for himself. His fingers brushed against my skin oh-so delicately, raising goose bumps all over my body as he maneuvered the shirt lower until it reached the end of gash, fingering the material of my shirt absently.

I took the time to inspect his face while he was preoccupied, seeing that most of the bruising he got from his brawl with Gordon was fading into a light shade of yellow while most of his cuts were basically healed. Dean then let out a grunt of approval, pulling me away from my own inspection.

"Well, it looks like it's healing alright." He muttered letting go of the collar of my shirt. Those impeccable eyes of his trailed up to mine, regarding the rest of my face with a deep frown. His hand came up to my face, tracing his calloused thumb along my bottom lip until he came to the area where my lip was split. Dean's eyes held a stricken look in them, ashamed even, then tipped his head, capturing my lips with his in a sweet, heartfelt kiss.

Eagerness flowed through him, wanting to know that things were okay as he swept his tongue across my lip—searching for some kind of a response. I was hesitant at first, then I relented, granting him access. His lips and tongue played me perfectly, knowing the right caresses, when to move with me; it was an innocent gesture, but downright sinful. It wasn't even ten seconds when a surge of fear and alarm coursed through him and into me, causing the both of us to jerk back, wide eyed.

"Dean?" I breathed out, alarmed, "What is it?"

His eyes were dilated and frantic for a split second before realization struck him, "Nothing…I-I, uh, didn't want to…hurt you. Split lip and all." I furrowed my brows, knowing that was a straight up lie. It had been done before on _several_ occasions, henceforth our intimate days coming to a screeching halt. One second we'd be all for it, and _boom_, Dean was making up excuses to not follow through, leaving me in the bed feeling his fear and hurt residing in him.

"Somethin's wrong," I prompted.

His lips spread out in a reassuring grin, "Babe, everything's fine." He kissed my forehead tenderly before holding his in place with mine, "Promise."

I furrowed my brows at him, "And yet, you leave me hangin' several times." His smile faded at my words, "Dean, tell me what's wrong."

"You wouldn't understand," he said softly. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped at that.

"_What_?" I breathed out in disbelief. Dean sighed at me, "Then _enlighten_ me, Dean. Try to make me understand."

Dean averted my eyes, taking in our surroundings, "It's not that easy, Abs."

My chest clenched painfully, "Not that easy?" I scoffed, shaking my head in condescension, "Not that easy." I worked my jaw oddly, running my tongue along my bottom teeth quickly, "And then you wonder why our relationship's in the shitter—you won't talk to me."

His eyes widened for a split second, like he'd been slapped. "Abs, c'mon." He scoffed out, "No it's not." Dean attested with his usual infuriatingly lighthearted half-grin, however, it faded when I folded my arms and didn't recant my statement. That was when he started to become uncomfortable. "Don't do this."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Then talk." Dean opened his mouth, only to clamp it shut, averting his eyes. He was ashamed about something—scared of it even—causing a little monster pop into my head, speaking over all of the whispering and humming. _He's going to leave you_._ You're not worth his time. _I shoved that thought down, readily ignoring it. That wasn't it, he'd never do that to me and Megan. I _knew_ he wouldn't do that kind of thing. _Then what else can it be_?

"Trust me when I say this, Abs, I-I can't…" He said lightly, "Just-just whatever you do…don't give up on us."

"You told me if somethin' was botherin' me, to talk to you, _no matter what_." I recited his words to him. _His_. "_You're_ botherin' me, and I want. To know. Why." Dean's eyes fell to a gravestone marked as 'Loving Father', licking his lips and glanced back at me, pensive. It was eating at him, until Dean's eyes flickered behind me, his face skewing into a look of curiosity.

"What is that?" He asked suddenly, and I turned, spotting a dying tree.

_Huh. That's unusual._ I considered it, tilting my head as curiosity and uneasiness plagued me, casting away all signs of our oncoming argument from moments before as we approached it. That uneasy, _spidey senses going apeshit crazy_ feeling was eating at me as I reached up to the tree, knocking on it consideringly. It was deader than four o'clock. "Abs…look."

I turned, arching my brow at him, "What?" His eyes directed mine to where I was standing. Brown grass crunched under my feet, and around us in a perfect circle. He kneeled down, fingering the dead grass before looking over to see a gravestone—it was recent placed there. I approached it, crouching down to take a look at the dead flowers. _Well shit_. Straightening up, I looked around for someone who possibly knew this person, catching sight of an older man dressed in a gray security suit.

I approached him with Dean following close behind, "Uh, excuse me, sir?" He turned around with raised brows, "We're sorry to bother you, but, uh, we came to pay our respects to our mother, and we couldn't help but notice that grave over there."

"Oh, yeah…That's Angela Mason." He replied. I caught a twinge of sadness from him and frowned, "Poor girl. She used to be a student at the local college here. Her dad's a professor there. Had her funeral three days ago." His eyes glazed over, "It's tragic when someone so young leaves this world too early."

"I can't help but ask, but did you use pesticides on this particular area?" Dean chimed in, throwing cautious glances to the gravesite. We were both hoping that it was pesticides and not something else.

The man shook his head, "No, nothing. Kills off what flowers the tenants' family brings." He took another look to Angela's grave, "It's a shame everything around is dying."

I pressed my lips into a weak smile, "Thanks for your time." He handed Dean a card, and we turned, heading towards Sam, "I think we just found ourselves a job…" I said, glancing over to him.

"Yeah, no kidding." Dean muttered, meeting my eyes. I shook my head feeling a little agitated that this one sprung up on us so close to Megan's surgery, but nonetheless, a little eager to have found one. Especially now since I was about to rip Dean's stupid head off. Sam met us halfway appearing to be confused.

"Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college; funeral was three days ago." Dean informed him as we started to walk together.

"_And_?" he asked, curious as to where this was going.

Dean let out a huff, "And? Dude, you shoulda saw her grave."

"Everythin's dead around it—in a perfect circle. You honestly can't tell us that there's nothin' weird goin' on." I quipped, seeing his naïve look.

"Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide." He said with a shrug. I could've fallen over dead at how naïve he was being! Instead, I looked over to Dean with wide, disbelieving eyes. _Was this really happening_?

"No, Sammy. I asked him, _we_ asked him." Dean stepped in, gesturing between us, "No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it." We took a moment to pause in front of the Impala.

"Okay, so what are you guys thinking?" Sam asked, looking to each of us for the next move.

I shrugged, "I dunno. Unholy ground, maybe?"

"Un—" Sam's brows rose in an incredulous look.

I scrunched my face at him, "What?" I demanded, "If somethin' evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground."

Dean nodded to back me up, smacking Sam's shoulder, "Remember the, the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?"

Sam nodded slowly, unsure, "Yeah, but-"

"Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the, the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough." Sam considered this with a short nod of his head, turning away to get into the Impala. Dean turned to me, frustrated, and turned back to look at Sam, "Well, don't get too excited, you might pull something."

"It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? _Here_, of all places?" Sam pointed out, going full-on Dr. Phil. I rolled my eyes at him, wandering around the Impala to the rear passenger door.

Dean remained towards the front, resting on the roof, "So?"

"So - are you sure this is about a hunt, and not about something else?" Sam asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, "What else would it be about?" A thought clicked in my head, instantly understanding Sam's question. I highly doubted it was what he thought it was.

Sam sighed heavily, shaking his head at his brother, "You know, just forget it."

"Sam, if this happens to actually be somethin', we're leavin' innocent people behind in harm's way." I reasoned, earning a look from both of them. They were surprised, Sam especially.

Dean, however, went with it, "You believe what you want, Sam, but - we let you drag our asses out here; the least we could do is check this out before Megan's surgery."

"Yeah. Fine." He sighed, reluctant. Dean grinned, patting the roof of the car before sidling in.

"Girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school." I informed Sam from the back as Dean cranked the ignition switch, the engine of the Impala rumbling to life. The drive to the local college was actually pretty short. It was literally a hop, skip, and a jump away—maybe a block or so.

* * *

><p>Finding Angela's father's office was a short find as well since the building was small, no bigger than the last high school that we went to, and I graduated from. Dean knocked on the window that had faded, yellow lettering across it. A short, gray-haired man answered, looking to the three of us expectantly.<p>

"Dr. Mason?" I asked.

He looked me up and down, "Yes?"

"I'm Abigail." I introduced, "This is Sam, and this is Dean." Nodding to Sam and Dean respectively, "We were friends of Angela's." Dr. Mason's hard look softened to a look of sorrow, the feeling was overwhelming; familiar. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, "We wanted to offer our condolences."

"Please, come in." He offered, taking a step to the side to let us in. Entering his office, Dr. Mason closed the door behind us, as we took our seats on a couch in the order of: Dean, me, and Sam, while he pulled something off his desk. Sitting down in front of us, he handed me the book since I was the one in between the two boys.

My heart grew heavier by the minute, flipping the album open so Sam go look at it, "She was beautiful." Sam murmured, glancing up to Dr. Mason while Dean made for the bookshelves, fingering each one with a skeptical look.

"Yes, she was." He agreed. I glanced up from the album to see Dean paging through a book in his hands; he seemed focused.

"This is an unusual book." Dean chirped, showing us the cover of the book. It had carving of Greek letters and a triangular symbol on it.

"It's ancient Greek; I teach a course." Dr. Mason replied as Dean looked back down at it curiously before putting it back on the shelf to rejoin us on the couch.

"So a car accident, that's—that's horrible." I spoke up as Dean wedged himself beside me and the couch.

Dr. Mason bowed his head, "Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh ..."

_She died._ I mused.

"It's gotta be hard. Losing someone like that." Dean spoke, "Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence." Sam and I looked to Dean, concerned. Like the stubborn, know it all, Dean ignored our looks. "You ever feel anything like that?" He asked.

"I do, as a matter of fact." Dr. Mason replied brokenly.

Sam continued to stare Dean down, almost shooting daggers at him. "That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through."

"You know, I still phone her." I nodded understandingly, forcing myself to not backtrack into the past on a potential job, "And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh ..." He couldn't finish his sentence, then licked his lips, "Family's everything, you know?" I let my eyes flicker over to Dean for a moment before focusing back onto the grieving father, "Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now I-I'm just lost without her."

"We're very sorry." Sam said, speaking up when Dean nor I did. I understood the feeling perfectly, dropping my eyes to the floor in a guilty expression, relishing in the painful sorrow this man was going through—it was as if his heart was cut out from his chest.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Motel Room—Night<strong>_

"I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet." Dean insisted, looking to Sam from across the room. I was sitting on his bed with John's journal in my lap, leafing through the pages in search of a possible answer.

"Guys, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing." I looked up from the journal, earning a surprised look from Sam in the mirror. Apparently my bitchface was on full-effect. Seriously though, his skepticism was beginning to get on my damn nerves!

"Well, _somethin_' turned that grave into unholy ground," I quipped, returning the same amount of sarcasm.

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground, Abigail." He dried his face off with a towel, "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father." He exited the bathroom, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean quipped with a grin, only to realize how that came out, and considered something. With raised brows, I suspected from the pursed lips and deflated, almost kicking himself, expression, he recanted his sentence putting Megan into consideration instantly throwing himself into a pissy mood.

"You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore." Sam argued, tossing down his towel as his voice became laced with agitation. "Megan's surgery is going to be here before we know it."

"You don't think Abs and I don't know that?" Dean leaned forward in his chair, "Dude, we can't just bail on this though," He shook his head determinedly at Sam, "Not without figuring what's going on."

Sam glanced between him and to me, then nodded with a knowing smirk. I arched my brow at him. "I think I know what's going on here." Dean threw a confused glance at me. I shrugged at him, "It's the only reason I went along with you this far, Dean."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Sam, don't—" I tried to speak up.

"This is about Mom's grave." Dean let out a scoff—a flurry of emotions swirled around in my stomach like a chaotic typhoon—as he stood up, facing his back to Sam and me.

I groaned, rolling my eyes at the youngest Winchester, "Here we go." I muttered, shaking my head as I leafed through another page.

"Sam, that's got nothing to do with it, Abigail can back me up on this one." He said quietly, anger bubbling beneath his words in a quiet warning.

Sam took a few steps towards his brother, "Dean, you wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad." Dean turned to look at him, face mottled crimson. I slowly closed the journal, setting it off to the side, staring at the two brothers warily. Sam sighed, remaining as still as a cadaver, "You wanna take another swing? Take a chance on hurting Abigail again?" He challenged as Dean's eyes flickered over to me. I had slinked my way within jerking distance to break whatever fight may come up. Instead, he just worked his jaw in an odd manner.

His head barely moved as he shook it, sending the both of us dark glares. "I don't need this crap." I watched him closely as he stalked over to the dresser grabbing his jacket and keys, heading for the door.

"Dean, where're you goin'?" I asked, meeting his stoic look.

"I'm going to go get a drink." He replied in a brusque manner, "_Alone_." There was a painful clench in my chest, jumping slightly when he slammed the door behind him, leaving me and Sam behind in the room.

"Yeah, well, piss on you too, Dean Winchester." I muttered, blowing an agitated breath out. Sam flung his hands out of exasperation.

"I can't believe him. No, wait, I _can_." Sam spat out, twisting around to look at me. "He needs to get over this, Abigail." Sam said heatedly, pacing around the room, "I mean, this is taking things to a whole 'nother level! It's all in his head!"

"Sam," I said lightly, "We have somethin', not a whole lot, but it's there." His eyes flashed with skepticism, "My spidey senses were off the charts. You gotta give us more time."

Sam let out a scoff, "More time? Abigail, you do realize that surgery is Monday?"

"No, Sam. I didn't. Thanks for tellin' me." I replied sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest, wincing. He let out an agitated breath, kicking the edge of the bed to let out his frustration, "We have time to figure this out and be back. Hopefully in the next couple of days."

Sam threw an exasperated glance at me over his shoulder, "Has he at least talked to you?" I stared at him in a deadpan, "Said anything to you at all?"

I shook my head, "No. Nothin'."

Sam's eyes went to the ceiling with a grunt, "He's being irresponsible, Abigail…" I closed my eyes, ignoring Sam's waves of continuous ranting, only feeling his exceeding amount of exasperation. He was struggling with his emotions, it was back and forth like a game of tennis.

"Sam! It's been six weeks!" I chastised him, probably cutting him off in mid-rant. I didn't really care at the moment. "You can't just wake up one day and say that you're not gonna grieve about somebody anymore." Shame trickled down my spine, matching the expression on his face. I held my arm out to him, "Jesus, Sam. I know you're hurtin' and I know Dean's hurtin'. Ya'll are dealin' with Dad's death in your own ways."

"How are you dealing with it?" Sam asked quietly.

_I want to beat my head into the wall, drink myself into a coma and never wake up_. I thought, "I'm toleratin' it." His eyes went to the ceiling. I did the same, "I know, I know—you two are just alike." Sam's eyes fell onto me with a tight-lipped expression, "You gotta think Sammy, I've been grievin' a long time about my family—twelve years—but I never fully got to _grieve_. I-I just guess with Dad…" My eyes dropped to the ground and I shook my head, "I'm dealin' with things in my own way, too." _Like always._

"Yeah…I guess." He muttered, lowering himself on his bed with an audible sigh. That little flame Sam was holding onto in an attempt to rant and rave about Dean's behavior simmered down into a tiny ember, calming down into something more along the lines of concern. His eyes peered at me through his shaggy, brown hair. "Abigail, there's more going on between you and Dean." I remained standing, however, turning to have my back face him. Crossing my right arm under my breasts, I brought my left hand up to my mouth, chewing on the skin around my thumbnail, "A _lot_ more than what you two lead on."

"We're fine, Sam." I muttered.

"There you go again, Abigail." His hand slapped against his thigh, agitated.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, taking my hand away from my mouth.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you and my brother are on the verge of a breakdown, Abigail." He told me pointedly, "The way you two fight and argue—it's as bad as it was _before_ you two were together. You need to—"

I held my hand up at him to silence him, "Don't tell me that I need to talk to 'im, Sam, or so help me I'll make sure you wake up with a clown in your bed." Sam's face blanched out of fear. I sighed, "To be real honest with you, Sammy…We're pickin' up the wrong pieces at the wrong time, and—and," I wiped away a stray tear, "I think Dean's hidin' somethin'…"

"What makes you say that?" I shrugged at him, not really able to place my finger on it.

"I dunno. He just makes up excuses mid-fling, says he can't…I try to get him to talk, and it's just a dead end. Again, he just says he can't, that I won't understand…" I took a sharp intake of breath, "Sometimes I think… that he's gonna leave, or that he's doin' he's not supposed to."

Sam stood up, "Abigail, Dean would never leave you and Megan. There'd be no way!" Blind confidence welled up in my chest—it wasn't mine, which brought tears to my eyes. His voice softened, "I'm not saying that Dean hasn't…you know, been faithful in the past, but that wasn't with you, Abigail. You know that."

I opened my mouth to speak. No, to blurt out what I had been feeling along. Tell him about my new ability. Rather than do that, I clamped it back shut earning a persistent look from my brother, only to avert his gaze. This was my burden. Not his, nor was it Dean's—they had enough on their plate as it was, "I know." I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, "Sam…tell me somethin'."

"Anything." His voice was full of sincerity.

"Tell me about what really happened while I was out." Anguish coated me like a blanket, "Cause Dean won't."

Sam cleared his throat, glancing everywhere in the room, and shifted around, "You were, uh, _out_."

I pressed my lips together in a line, "That's pretty vague, Sam." He smiled at me sheepishly, remaining uncomfortable.

"Look, Abs…a lot of things happened." He recounted, "You scared us a couple of times, and we-we weren't sure you were gonna make it." His eyes glittered from unspent tears.

"So, I shoulda never pulled through that coma?" I muttered.

"No. That's not what I'm saying." Sam closed the space between us. His arms encased me in a tight hug. But he was lying. _I was supposed to die,_ "Look, all I'm saying is that you're here and fine, and-and Megan's here, and she's fine."

"But, what if I'm the reason Dad's dead?" Sam's body stiffened against mine, falling eerily silent. Like he was _considering _that. My face crumpled at the sheer thought of it.

"No." He affirmed me, "No way."

I stepped back, out of his embrace, "Sam, this doesn't make any sense!" I shoved my hair back out of my face, "It doesn't feel right! This-this whole thing!" I started to breathe heavily, "I didn't feel right when I pulled through, and then Dad dies a few hours later?" Sam avoided looking at me as I threw my hands up in the air, feeling hopelessly lost, "Sam, what the hell happened?"

He said nothing further. Instead, he simply grabbed clothes from his bag, and stalked off to the bathroom where he shut and locked the door. Angry, I dug out clothes of my own bag when the clattering sound of my pain killers falling out alerted me. Like it was poison, I picked them up gingerly, inspecting the orange and yellow bottle in my hand. Tearing my gaze away from the bottle when the shower kicked on, I licked my lips in a pensive fashion, dropping my gaze back down at the prescription.

_One shouldn't hurt…at least, not right now._ I mused, considering the possibilities of taking one to ease my nerves. Lord knows I was fried. Then I was bathed in a shroud of guilt…I mean, look how far I had come in seven—going on eight—years. I cringed as another wave of anger split through me, then sorrow. _People and their damn emotions_. It was a constant migraine considering that the entire town was about to drive me insane.

The longer I held the bottle, knowing what effect it had on me when I used it, the heavier it became. After another wave of sorrow hit me like a ton of bricks, I broke down. I twisted the cap off and dumped out a little white pill. In my gut, it wasn't the right thing. Every part of me was screaming out no, including the humming and whispering. This was just the case that all the liquor in the world could numb it down.

I leaned my head back, throwing my hand that contained the Vicodin to my mouth, and chewed. Between each crunch, it presented a god awful taste, _just like I remembered_, swallowing the contents with a grimace. Not bothering with climbing into bed, wait for Sam to start back in on his rants, or have Dean stumble back in three sheets to the wind; I slipped the bottle of Vicodin into my jacket pocket and went out of the motel room to take a walk. You know, see the sights, visit the graves, and possibly catch a whiff of supernatural escapades to prove Sam that Dean wasn't crazy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Angela's House—Day**_

I stood outside the apartment of the late Angela Mason's apartment, carding the door. Slowly opening it, I slipped inside taking notice of how clean the place was—of course it would be clean. Picking up a framed picture of Angela, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the reflection of the glass. I turned, just as she jumped and screamed.

"Who the hell are you?!" Her voice was full of panic, turning and shut herself in a room just as I turned to give her an excuse.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on!" I called out, holding my hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"I'm calling 9-1-1!" She called out. She wasn't stupid.

I had to think fast. "I'm Angela's cousin!" I blurted out.

Silence. "What?" The girl asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, her dad sent me over to, uh," I cleared my throat, glancing around the place, "pick up her stuff, my name's Alan? Alan Stanwick?"

The girl opened the door, peering out of the crack with confusion written on her face, "Her dad didn't say that you were coming."

"Well, I mean," I held up my keys at her, "How else would I the key to your place?" It wasn't five minutes me and the girl, Lindsey, were in the living room. She sat on the couch across from me, sobbing. Needless to say, I was slightly uncomfortable. Slightly didn't begin to cover it. I reached out, pulling a Kleenex out of the box handing it to her.

_Abigail's so much better at this._ I thought with pursed lips, _Where the hell was she?_ I half-expected her to waltz through the front door any moment, but that wasn't going to happen. I cleared my throat, "So. I'm sure you got a, a view of Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell me, what, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?"

Lindsey swallowed hard, looking up at me through tear soaked lashes. "She was great." She sniffled, "Just great. I mean, she was so... so..."

"Great?" I finished for her.

She nodded her head, "Yeah." Then she started sobbing again. _Good Lord._ "Yeah."

"Yeah." I muttered, offering her another tissue, "Here you go. You two must have been really close, huh?"

Lindsey nodded, "We were." She agreed, then shook her head, "But it's not just her, it's Matt."

I blinked, "Who?"

"Angela's boyfriend." She spoke in an obvious voice.

I nodded, "Right, Matt. What about him?"

"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat." I sat back, stunned. That's what I'd been looking for. Proof. "Who does that?" Lindsey asked.

"That's - terrible." I mused, thoughts wandering.

"He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days." She confessed taking another tissue from me.

"Messed up how?" I pressed.

"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere." I frowned at that, it made sense. Tied to her father back at the college with his statement of sensing her presence. It could just be a sign of grief…_Hm._

"Well, I'm—I'm sure that that's normal, I mean with everything that he was going through." I commented.

"No, he said that he _saw_ her. As in, an acid trip or something." A surge of hope flared up. It was a little unsettling, but it was something. Definitely a vengeful spirit. _Suck on that, Sam._

"Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, is there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?" I checked, and Lindsey's face scrunched in confusion.

"What? No, of course not, why do you ask?" She asked getting defensive. Now, it wouldn't have struck me odd about her response, but if reacted like that, my money would be on: She's banged Matt.

I laughed a little, "Just asking." This conversation was clearly over, "Where did Matt live?"

"I thought you said you were getting Angela's stuff?" Lindsey queried.

"I'll come back for it later." I said, as she jotted down the address and handed it to me. I glanced at it, nodding to her with a smile. Outside, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialing Abigail's number. With narrowed eyes, I paused at Baby, listening to the rings.

"_This is Abigail's _other_, other phone. You know what to do._" I ground my teeth after getting her voicemail, _again_. She was gonna be the death of me!

"Abs, it's me. _Again_." I said flatly, "I don't know where the hell you're at, but you need to answer your phone. I got some dirt on this case." I inhaled feeling a certain three lettered word hang off the tip of my tongue, and rather than just saying it, I choked it back down, "Just, uh…wherever you're at, meet me back at the room. Be careful." I got in, closing the door as I started the engine. Abigail _never_ just up and leave. _Never_. I sincerely hoped she didn't bail on us.

* * *

><p>At the motel, I paused outside the door a moment hearing Casa Erotica Four being announced. Walking through the door, the television was cut off, and Sam sat at the edge of the bed looking at me startled.<p>

"Hey." He said quickly. I entered the room slowly, glancing between the television and Sam. "What?"

"Awkward." It was all I could really sum up the situation.

"Where in the hell were you?" Sam demanded. I rolled my eyes at him, making myself at home.

"Working mine and Abs' imaginary case." I told him. His faced tightened in anger. Like I cared, "Speaking of Abs, has she made it back yet?"

Sam shook his head, "No. Nothing. Been getting her voicemail."

I nodded, "Same here."

"You don't think she left, do you?" I licked my lips, avoiding his gaze. "Dean?" He asked me, voicing his uncertainty.

"I'm not—" The motel room opened, and Abigail waltzed through humming some kind of song, a folder in her hands. Sam jumped to his feet, wide-eyed, staring at me. I didn't know whether to hug her or yell at her. "Abs, where the hell have you been?!"

Abigail practically skipped by me, tossing her jacket onto the bed, "Out and about." She replied, twisting around with a grin, holding out the folder. "Oh, and Sam?" She tossed it on his lap, "Put that in your pipe and smoke it."

He and I stared at the folder, bewildered, "Um…what—where?"

Abigail shrugged, "Doesn't matter. Now, look."

Sam glanced over to me, then proceeded to open the folder, "Matt Harrison. Caucasian. Male." Sam stared to Abigail, "Who is this guy?"

"Angela Mason's ex-old man." His brows rose, as she urged him to continue to read.

"Cause of death, deep lacerations to throat resulting in significant blood loss—" I couldn't hardly believe Abigail managed to pull the autopsy record, "How'd you manage to get this?" Sam asked her.

She smirked, breathing on her nails and scrubbed them against her shirt, "I have my ways."

"So, you know about Matt's throat being slit?" I asked, "How?"

"Pulled a Dean Winchester." I scrunched my face in distaste in her choice of words. _What the hell did that mean_? "Went to a bar, drunk a few rounds. Won a few games of pool, grabbed a coupla numbers, and went for a walk. Then I went to the coroner's office, posed as an off-duty FBI agent, showed a little_ dècolletè_ and got the grand tour." Her shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, "I did whatever you would do. Did you find anythin'?"

_Did she just throw in French? _I thought, trying to scramble my head for the useless information of a stint I took in high school. _What the hell did that mean?_ However, when I glanced up to meet her expectant gaze, I cleared my throat, "Well, uh…aside from Angela's boyfriend, _Matt_, giving himself a Columbian necktie, since that's, uh, normal."

Sam rolled his eyes at us, "Let's see, what else…" I snapped my fingers, "Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."

Sam's eyes wavered between Abigail and me, "Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here." He conceded.

Abigail's mouth gaped, crossing her arms across her chest, "_Maybe_?" She asked pointedly, "Sam, Dean and I know how to do our jobs, despite what you might think—relationship or no relationship, and whatnot." I glanced at her uneasily, _What did _that_ mean?_

"We should check out the guy's apartment." Sam suggested, only for Abigail to snort.

"Already checked it, like, last night." I furrowed my brows at her. I had just come back from there! "Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too. Spidey senses were off the charts." Abigail was one step ahead of us, which was impressive. I couldn't help but feel proud of her for that.

"So, unholy ground?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela." I said standing up, crossing the room to pick up a pink book I had snatched from Angela's house, "I have been reading this, though."

Abigail's arched her brow at me, "You stole the girl's diary?"

"Yeah, Abs. And if anything, the girl's a little too nice." I commented.

Sam was quiet for a moment, considering everything he's heard from us, "So, what do you want to do?" He finally asked.

"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends." I decided.

"You get any names?" Abigail asked.

"You kidding me?" I looked up at her with a cocky smirk, "I have her _bestest friend in the whole wide world_." I tossed the diary down beside Sam, turning to head back out the door. Abigail was close behind. Outside, I reached out, taking her by the arm, "Spill."

Abigail's brows rose in an innocent gesture, "What?"

"Where were you, Abigail?" I deadpanned, "I called your phone a hundred times last night; Sam's called you a hundred times."

"I was doin' my job, Dean. Helpin' you not look like some crazy idjit." I nodded, though noticed something about her was off. I couldn't quite place my finger on what it was, "'s not like Sam to be this skeptical about things."

"Yeah…" I licked my lips, "So, uh, enlighten me on that _relationship or no relationship_ thing…"

Her lighthearted expression steeled, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"And yet, you won't talk to me…" I mused, reciting what she had told me earlier, looking elsewhere.

"I've _tried_ gettin' you to talk to me, Dean. Every time I try to get a little closer to you, you shut down and the conversation's over."

I rolled my eyes, "How many times do I have to say this? I _can't_—"

"Can't never could!" She snapped, "Y'know, if you want this to be it, then jus' say it and I'll be gone and out your sight." My chest clenched painfully at her words. I stared at her, completely thrown off. "It's obvious we're not okay, Dean. There's somethin' goin' on with you, and I know there is. Is there some—"

"No." I said firmly. That much I could say truthfully, "Abigail, what's possessed you to think that I would _ever_ do something like that to you and Megan? Do you honestly think I would cheat on you?"

Abigail held a firm, unyielding gaze on me, "It wouldn't surprise me, given the way you've been actin'." I stared at her, mouth agape in shock. In her eyes, a flash of emotion went through them, and she suddenly became uncomfortable, pained, "I mean…if that's not the case, Dean—"

"It's not." I ground out.

Silent, she nodded her head. "A'ight." She murmured. Her tone was soft, gentle…but hurt, "I believe you…but whatever you're hidin', I want to know. I want to know that we're gonna be okay, Dean. I want to know what happened while I was out…if this is my fault Dad's dead."

"You're as bad as Sam about hounding me," I told her coolly, "You need to drop it."

"Dean—"

"Drop it!" I barked out, avoiding her gaze. I couldn't stand look at her, and as much as I wanted to tell her everything—every tiny detail of what I was feeling—I couldn't. Instead, anger flowed through me. It wasn't towards her, but towards myself. "I don't need this." I muttered, digging in my coat pocket for my keys.

"Stop pushin' me away, Dean!" Her voice broke with a flurry of emotions, and it hurt. I couldn't bring myself to see what I was doing to her, because I would've scooped her up, kissed her breathless—did everything. I was pushing her away, and I didn't regret it. I didn't want her to get hurt. But the most important thing? I didn't want to lose her.

"Just get in the damn car, Abs." I snapped at her. Sam walked out of the motel room just as she climbed in and slammed the door, _hard_. I cringed at it, wondering how the hell the window didn't shatter from the force. Sam paused, turning his eyes on me, almost knowingly. I worked my jaw oddly as I hung my head, averting my eyes to the ground.

* * *

><p>The drive to Angela's bestest friend in the whole world didn't take long. A half hour perhaps?<p>

"I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors." Neil said to us, voice full of skepticism.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing." I commented, earning a sharp look from Sam. Abigail? Not so much.

"Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks." He started back to his house.

"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Abigail added quickly. Neil's face hardened.

"Yeah, I did." He said stiffly.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam stepped in. I threw him a knowing look. His puppy dog eyes were in full effect, "Grief can make people do crazy things."

Neil sighed, "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't 'cause of grief." He stated, and my eyes snapped to him.

"No? Then why?" I questioned.

Neil turned his eyes on me, almost glowering, "It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it."

"How was Matt responsible?" Abigail asked.

"She really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car." I turned my head to look at Abigail and Sam as they absorbed what they'd just heard. We now had our motive. Neil looked down at his watch quickly, "Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so ... thanks for the concern, but... seriously, I'll be okay."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Street—Day**_

Dean, Sam, and I walked away from Neil's house with fresh eyes. We found our motive, which was now moving things along quickly. This was the one thing I needed to focus on, rather than dwell on the fact that I had hit the bottom. I was so tired, and not only that, I was about hurl. I needed to clear my head to focus on this task at hand, worry about my daughter…

"Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense." Dean commented with his hands in his pockets.

"I mean, hell hath no fury..." I added, earning an uncomfortable look from both Sam and Dean. I had felt everything back at the motel. Again, he was lying—but not about cheating on me, that was clear.

"So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked, looking at Dean from across the roof of the Impala.

Dean shrugged, "Well, there's one way to be sure." We got in the car.

"Yeah? What's that?" He asked.

I already knew what Dean was thinking, "We do what we do best when it comes to this, burn the bones."

"Burn the bones?" Sam echoed with a scoff, "Are you high?" I fell silent. "Angela died last _week_!"

"So?" Dean voiced.

"So, there's not gonna be bones." He chastised, "There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?" I said uneasily, trying to hide my discomfort with a smile. Instead, I got weirded out looks from both Sam and Dean.

"Since when are you wanting to be a graveyard without complaining?" Sam shot back. I pursed my lips at him. _Well, shit._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Graveyard—Night<strong>_

A few hours had gone by as night shrouded us in a comforting darkness. I stood above Sam and Dean, watching as they dug the rectangular perimeter of Angela's grave. Both men were panting and sweating from exertion, Dean throwing me glances every now and then. After an hour or so of digging, as well as swapping out with Sam for the last few feet, Dean and I stood in the grave, well, on the coffin to be exact while he cleared off the rest of the dirt.

"Ladies first." He quipped, turning to me.

I smirked, "You hear 'im, Sammy? Ladies first."

Sam glared at the both of us, increasingly irritated at our back and forth banter, "Hold that." He said after jumping back into the grave, handing me the light. I hoisted myself out, only to sit at the edge, peering in with a pensive expression on my face. My spidey senses were off the charts. I felt Sam's apprehension as he slowly opened the coffin, wincing in preparation from the possibility of a fresh corpse—but upon inspection, my worst fears were confirmed. The coffin was empty.

"They buried the body four days ago." Dean scratched his head out of confusion, "Tell me we don't have a zombie thing goin' on." I implored, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. Dean glanced up to me, amused.

"I don't get it." Sam muttered, miffed about the sudden disappearance of a body buried four days ago.

Something in the light of the flashlight I was holding caught my attention. I shifted in my spot, leaning forward a smidge to look, "Hey. What's that?" I asked, earning curious looks from Sam and Dean. They glanced at me, then down at the coffin, revealing a piece of ripped cloth. Dean crouched, tearing at the cloth more to reveal carvings with ancient symbols.

Dean furrowed his brows, "What _is_ that?"

"I'm not sure." Sam said thoughtfully. Their gazes fell on me and I shrugged, I was stumped. A little more apprehensive than anything.

Vague familiarity washed over me. "I've seen these kind of symbols before." Dean said, straightening up. He knew something was up, and where to find answers. Anger coursed through Dean as he pounded heavily on the door to Dr. Mason's house. Agitated was the nicest term that could come to mind, with the next being highly pissed.

"Dean." I was probably the last person he wanted to hear from right now, however, when I touched his shoulder, his body relaxed somewhat. "Take it easy, okay?" Before Dean could reply, or smart off, Dr. Mason opened the door wearing a gray t-shirt and a checkered robe.

"You're Angie's friends, right?" He looked half-annoyed, half-curious as to why we were standing at his doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night.

"Dr. Mason..." Sam began gently.

"We need to talk." Dean cut in, rather brusque. Sam and I shot him a meaningful look that went unnoticed.

"Well, then, come in." He stepped to the side, allowing us to step into his house. Reaching the living room, Dean turned to face him.

"You teach Ancient Greek. Tell me—" He unfolded the paper with the carvings on it, "What are these?" Dr. Mason looked at the symbols confused, glancing up to each of us confused.

"I don't understand." He began, "You said this had something to do with Angela."

"It does." Dean answered curtly, "Please, just humor me."

Dr. Mason looked down at the paper once more, "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."

"Used for necromancy, right?" I asked.

He nodded in confirmation, "That's right."

"See, before we came over here we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves." Dean explained, "Apparently they used rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life. Full-on zombie action." I shifted uncomfortably at the thought of zombies. Ugh.

"Yes." Dr. Mason nodded his head, then tilted it, "I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's all this about?" I was fixated on Dr. Mason's face. He was innocent.

"I think you know." Dean pushed.

"Dean." I warned.

He ignored me, "Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give _anything_ to see again." _John and Mary_. I was blindsided by agony and anger, "But what gives you the right?" I had to take a step back, to bite my tongue. Sam took a step forward, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Dean!" Sam's hand tightened.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason didn't have clue what Dean was saying.

He jerked away from Sam's grasp, turning to him, anger and pain residing in his impeccable green eyes. They flickered over to me, lingering a second longer as resentment and fear overcame me. Dean turned back to face the bewildered man, "What's dead should stay dead!"

That was when I fully understood everything. _I shoulda died._ _Dad shoulda lived._

Dr. Mason glared at Dean defensively, "What?!"

"Stop it!" Sam shouted, trying to get Dean to calm down. I couldn't hardly breathe. It _was_ me. I swallowed hard, feeling utterly helpless…_so _lost. If I was supposed to die, then why didn't I?

"What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them!" Dean shouted, enraged, "I mean, come on, haven't you seen _Pet Semetery_?"

"You're insane." The professor tried to remain calm.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded as Dr. Mason stalked past us, picking up the phone threateningly.

"Get out of my house." He growled out, dialing the phone. Dean knocked it out of his hand.

"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?!" He bellowed as Sam pushed him back away while I lingered back.

"Dean! Stop, that's enough! Dean, look!" He grabbed Dean's jacket, pointing to a row of vibrant, living plants by the window, "Beautiful, living plants." Sam looked to Dr. Mason apologetically, "We're leaving."

"I'm calling the police." Dean pulled away from Sam's grip and stormed for the door. I remained in my spot, stunned. I didn't even hear the rest of the conversation until Sam's hand gripped my arm, dragging me behind him quickly until we were outside and on the sidewalk.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?" He exclaimed, flinging his arms out.

Dean glared at him, pointing a finger, "Back off."

"That man is innocent! He didn't deserve that!" Sam argued, eyes flashing in anger.

"Okay, so she's not here, maybe he's keeping her somewhere else." Dean shot back, refusing to admit that he just made a really bad call, and almost paid for it.

Sam shook his head furiously, "Stop it! That's enough, okay? Enough!"

"Sam, I know what I'm doing." He snarled out.

"No, you don't. At all." He argued, "Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap out of me." Sam said, reeling.

"Don't be overdramatic, Sam." Dean scoffed out.

"Overdramatic?" Sam scoffed out as well, "You're lucky this turned out to be a real case. Because if it wasn't, you would have just found something else to kill! The _both_ of you!" He shouted, focusing on the both of us. I blinked out of my stupor, staring at Sam, bewildered.

"What—?" Dean and I said in chorus.

"The both of you are on edge, you're erratic - except for when you're around Megan or hunting. It's different around her, but when you're hunting, that's when you two are downright scary." Sam stated, "You're tail spinning, guys." He turned angry eyes to his brother, "You're relationship is _failing_ because you refuse to talk about it with Abigail, and you two won't let me help you!"

"We can take care of ourselves and _our _relationship, _thanks_." Dean interrupted him hotly.

Sam let out a condescending scoff, "No, you can't. Neither of you can! The only thing you two care about are yourselves when you have a three week old daughter fighting for her life every day!" Dean averted his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek while I remained stuck in a stunned expression, "Are you two really that selfish?! Don't you two care about each other anymore?" Sam's breathing was erratic, quick as he glared between us.

"Sam—" I finally managed to say.

"And you know what?" He cut me off, staring Dean down with narrowed eyes, "You're the only ones who thinks you should have to face this. Truth is, you guys don't have to handle this on your own. No one can."

"Sam, if you bring up Dad's death one more time I swear..." Dean cut in, warning him.

"Stop! Please, Dean. Abigail." His eyes went to us, pleading, "It's killing you two. _Please._ We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. Abigail lost her entire family. I've lost Jessica. And now Megan and I are going to lose you guys, too?" Sam asked, reaching his hand out in a gesture. I couldn't stand to look at him, fighting back every urge to cry. It was there too, ready and waiting. Dean looked to Sam, contemplative as several emotions passed through his eyes. It was guilt, shame, and few other ones.

After a few minutes, Dean shifted uncomfortably, looking around, "We better get out of here before the cops come." Sam frowned deeply at him. He sighed, "I hear you. Okay?"

Sam glanced over to me, I slowly nodded to show that I was listening. "I hear ya, Sammy." His lips pressed into a small whisper of a smile. Dean glanced to me, guilty as well.

"Yeah, I'm being an ass. And I'm sorry." He admitted, "To the both of you. But right now we've got a fuckin' zombie running around, and we need to figure out how to kill it." Sam's tiny smile broke out into a grin, bowing his head forward with a breathy laugh before Dean turned to me once he figured out I didn't reply in the same way. He looked deeply troubled. "Right?" I bit my lip, meeting his gaze, and nodded.

"Our lives are weird, man." Sam said, shaking his head.

"You're telling me? Come on." He said, gesturing Sam to go ahead of us. Dean then approached me, almost seeming hesitant when he paused in front of me, leaving a few feet between us. I looked up at him like a wounded animal, sensing that he was fighting with himself on something. He didn't have to speak, I got it. "Abs, I'm not good at this kind of thing…"

"You don't have to apologize to me, Dean…" I replied curtly, "In fact, I understand it all." _I shoulda died, and Dad shoulda lived, but I'm gonna get it out of you one way or another._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Motel Room—Night<strong>_

Sam had gone to store to get some food, according to Dean, but what store is open at fifteen till two other than Walmart? I was in the bathroom—door locked—and silently pulling out a Vicodin from the bottle. I popped it in my mouth, chewing it. After swallowing, I ran the sink so I could scoop out water and swish my mouth out, ridding myself of the god awful taste before I had to walk out and face Dean. He was his usual, brooding self; not speaking, avoiding all questions, and avoiding me—like usual. I stayed a moment longer in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

_What's dead should stay dead_…That's what he said. Back at Dr. Mason's house, I had felt Dean's resentment and fear. _Was I the reason for all of this? Is he blaming me for John?_ I couldn't think straight in this motel room—not with Dean nearby. Ignoring him as he ignored me, I went out to walk around the motel. It had a pool nearby. Anyone could smell it a mile away. Making it to the pool, I hopped over the gates, seeing no one outside. I mean it was two o'clock in the morning for God's sake, no one other than us should've been up.

My thoughts were jumbled, I felt great. The voices and whispering were muted, the constant nagging of emotions were numbed down to a faint roar—this was damn near perfect considering the constant hell I've felt. I kicked off my shoes, peeling away my jacket, setting them on the cement near the edge of the pool. I then peeled off my jeans, revealing a pair of boy shorts that were vaguely similar to swimming bottoms, and that was what I wore when I lowered myself into the water, beginning to do laps around the pool.

It was something to do until Sam came back as my laps turned into how long I could hold my breath underwater. _What's dead should stay dead_! Dean's voice bellowed in my head around the fifth time I came up, gasping for air. It occurred to me that I needed to see if Dean wanted me dead or alive. I submerged myself once more, holding my breath until my lungs were screaming in protest for me to break the surface. I didn't move; I closed my eyes and just let myself be suspended in the water.

I could hear someone's muffled shouts. As it got closer, the shouting got more frantic, worried. Judging by the crippling fear that coursed through me, I knew it had to be Dean. Muffled by the water, I had never heard him sound or feel that scared before. Remaining still, there was a splash that shook my suspended body, almost sending me back to the surface of the pool until I felt a pair of arms drag me up, and was lifted out of the pool, being placed on the rough concrete. I felt his trembling fingers move my wet hair out of my face.

"Abigail?" he lightly shook my shoulders. "Come on, Abs. Breathe." He whispered, voice thick with poignant fear. I felt his hand slide under my neck as he opened my mouth, placed his on mine. His breath was transferred to my body, forcing air into my already depleted lungs. Needless to say it was rather unpleasant. As soon as he backed away, I exhaled as slowly as I could, then he gave me another breath. I felt my body shiver a little bit.

"Abs, breathe for me," he begged. "Abigail, please. Don't do this." I felt his fingertips trace above my breast. I could hear the desperation in his voice, and how shaky it was. What I was feeling damn near made me stop this charade. After the fourth time he took in a shaky breath and breathed into me, this time I did it on my own. Filled with dread caused by Dean, I placed a reassuring kiss on his lips as we were connected, lifting my hand and placed it on his cheek.

He pulled away and I saw the shocked look on his face, "You okay?"

"Let me show you." I said with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. He gripped my wrist and yanked me off of him, rearing back with his brows knitted together in an angry scowl.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?!" he shouted.

I smirked at him, "I should ask you the same—"

"Stop." He snarled out, eyes swirling in a mass of rage, "You wanna know what happened to you after the accident _so fucking bad_? Fine. I'll tell ya." started Dean," You were hooked up on_ life support_. You had an edema in your brain, not to mention several other injuries." Guilt creeped up my spine, and I recognize that it was mine, "Megan was dying due the trauma. The next day, I watched you flat line in front of me—you went into cardiac arrest caused by a stroke. I performed CPR on you before the doctors ever came into your room, then Sam and I both stood in the hall as they shocked you."

I felt my heart squeeze painfully out of guilt for pulling that stunt. I sensed it in his voice, and felt it in a massive knot in my stomach. I averted my eyes to the ground next to his knees. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch your lifeless body arch up? What it was like for _Sam_?!" He exclaimed, "They were close to giving up on you—everyone! The next thing I know, the doctors tell me that we should pull the plug on you because it wasn't likely that you were gonna survive. Even Sam was considering it! I had to punch my own brother because I couldn't let you go!"

"Dean, stop." I felt my heart aching, "I get it." I felt tears forming in my eyes. Dean grabbed my shoulders tightly.

"No, you wanted to know!" He snarled out at me, eyes flashing dangerously in the light of the pool lights as he shook me slightly. "Then dad died…" His voice became strained, tears twinkling in his eyes, "I heard Sam shouting for me. I heard that you were about to flat line again." Dean's grip slackened, licking his lips pensively, "…I watched them shock you once again. This time, it didn't take them long, and you ended up busting a couple of your staples..." Dean squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head and shook it as a lone tear trailed down his face, "Every time you are out of my sight or hurt, I am so afraid I might lose you."

My heart was breaking, fully aware that what I had done was foolish, "I was afraid I lost you for good. You scared the shit out of me, Abigail."

"Dean, I'm sorry-" I tried to tell him.

"Sorry doesn't take back what you just did." He said angrily. "I can't even look at you right now." I gazed back down at the ground, "Don't talk to me unless I talk to you, or unless we're around Megan." Dean stood up, his boots scraping against the concrete in one motion as he turned and stalked off towards the motel room.

I started to cry, _How could I have been so stupid and self-centered_?

* * *

><p>Back in the motel, Sam had returned thirty minutes after my stunt. The three of us ate in silence, beginning our meticulous task of finding ways to waste a zombie, non-Romero style. Dean paced around the room like a caged animal, agitated and stressed out bundled into one. Sam was perched on his bed with John's journal in hand while I sat on the dresser, skimming through the pink diary of Angela Mason.<p>

"We can't just waste it with a head shot?" Dean asked.

Sam snorted in amusement, glancing up from his father's journal, "Dude. You've been watching way too many Romero flicks."

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em." He deadpanned, crossing the room to the table near the window.

"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much." Sam sighed heavily as he joined him, "I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them."

"Some say—settin' them on fire." I stated, "Uh, one said—which is also my personal favorite—feedin' their hearts to wild dogs." Dean stared at me emotionlessly while Sam looked rather smug. It was his favorite as well, "I mean, who knows what's real and what's myth? The possibilities are endless."

"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean asked.

I leaned up against the counter, folding my arms, "No. But a few said silver might work."

Dean nodded, "Silver's a start." He regarded me with a nod.

"Yeah. But now how are we going to find Angela?" Sam asked, looking across the table to Dean and across the room to me. Dean's eyes flickered over to me, holding me in his sight.

"We've got to figure out the person who brought her back first." He said.

"Any ideas?" Sam prompted.

"My money's on Neil." I deadpanned, "Since daddy dearest is innocent, it only leaves him."

Sam looked a little taken aback at my deduction, "Neil?"

Dean nodded, backing me up, "Yep."

"How'd you come up with that?" Sam asked us, eyeing the pink journal in my hand.

Dean smirked, "Well, you've got your journal, we've got ours."

"_Neil's a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I'm going through with Matt._" I quoted in a preppy cheerleader voice earning an amused chuckle from Sam. I snapped it shut, handing it back to Dean as he passed by. "There's more in there where that came from."

"It's got Unrequited Ducky Love written all over it." Dean added with his face skewed slightly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead." Sam said.

Dean hummed, "Did I mention he's Professor Mason's TA? Has access to all the same books." I tilted my head to the side as Sam and I both looked at him, speculative.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Neil's House—Night<strong>_

We let ourselves into the house courtesy of our little credit card trick. The house was dark and quiet. Taking the lead, Dean looked around warily.

"Hello? Neil?!" He called out, "It's your grief counselors—we've come to hug."

"He's not home…" I mused, taking out my pistol to check my chamber. I felt Dean's eyes bore holes into me.

"Silver bullets?" Sam asked me, causing me to glance up at him briefly.

"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse." I paused. _That's not what I wanted to say_—earning a weirded-out look from Dean. I just said what _he_ wanted to say, though neither of us spoke. We started through the house, again with Dean taking the lead with his pistol out, as well. Spotting wilted plants, I reach out tapping Sam on the shoulder since he was closer, gesturing my head to them. Dean saw this and nodded, checking the corner for any signs of Neil or Angela. Sam and I turned when Dean cleared his throat, spotting a door leading down to the basement.

"Unless it's where he keeps his porn..." Dean trailed off when I reached to twist the knob. Holding my pistol close to me, I watched as he nodded, and I opened the basement door allowing Dean to go down first, then Sam. I brought up the rear as we headed down the stairs, finding ourselves into an empty room complete with a television and a bed.

"Sure looks like a zombie pen to me." I muttered venturing into the room further.

"Yeah." Sam mused, "An empty one." He looked over at Dean, "You think Angela's going after somebody?" I pulled a loose grate and pulled it aside. Clearing my throat, Dean and Sam turned seeing that it lead out somewhere.

"I'm pretty sure she out to rent Beaches." Dean replied with a wry grin.

Sam didn't look to amused, "Look, smartass, she might kill someone. We gotta find her, guys."

"Yeah. Alright." His smile dropped, glancing to us both, "She, uh, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?"

Sam and I nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, it takes two to, you know," A suggestive smile graced his lips again, "have hardcore sex." I was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable about that.

"Didn't you say you talked to Angela's room mate?" I asked.

Dean hesitated, eyeing a part of the room like it was intriguing.

Sam furrowed his brows at him clearing his throat, "Uh, Dean." He looked at Sam innocently, "Abigail asked you something."

His eyes went over to me, answering me finally. "Yeah, she seemed awfully broken up over Matt's death—" His mouth tightened, "Shit." It had taken no time to climb out of the grate and back into the Impala, due to his erratic driving, we screeched to a halt in front of Angela's house. There was a crash, then a scream when we got out of the car, we wasted no time on barging into the house unannounced. Dean and I didn't take the time to hesitate on Angela—who had Lindsey by the hair, readying the pair of scissors she had in her hand to stab Lindsey—firing off several rounds into her. Angela convulsed, letting Lindsey go, and we managed to fire off another shot; our bullets hitting her in the chest twice.

Angela made the most ungodly sound; something between a roar and a scream, before she bolted out of the window. Dean followed her while I rushed out of the door to flank her, leaving Sam to tend to Lindsey. By the time we met in the middle of the street, Angela was long gone. There were no signs of blood, nothing.

Coming back into the house through the window, Dean stood beside me, "Damn, that dead chick can run."

Sam looked at us for answers, still holding Angela's terrified roommate, "What now?"

"I say we go have a little chat with Neil." I reasoned, breathing a little off since running after Angela. Dean, Sam, and I went to the Impala—Sam taking the passenger seat and me in the back with John's journal open.

"So the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam asked, throwing us inquisitive looks.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, something, but not enough." He gazed through the rearview mirror at me, "What else you got, Abigail?"

I skimmed across several things, "Um, okay, besides silver, we have ... nailin' the undead back into their grave beds." I glanced up at Dean, "It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from."

"Their grave beds?" Dean echoed, sounding disbelieving of what he just heard, "You serious?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

"How the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?" He asked, "I highly doubt the bitch is gonna just lie down and let us nail her down."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Neil's Office—Night<strong>_

We reached Neil's work, which was Dr. Mason's office. Dean and Sam paused, almost hesitant if he were there. I simply opened the door, stepping into the room after sensing his nervousness. He jumped at his desk.

"What are you guys doing here?" Sam shut the door behind him.

"You know, I've heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you—" Dean's body shook as he chuckled, wagging his finger at Neil, "_you_ take the cake, buddy boy."

"Okay. Who are you guys?" Neil asked, looking at us expectantly.

I inspected my nails nonchalantly, "You might wanna to ask Angela that question."

His face blanched, "What?"

"We know what you did." I stated, "The ritual? Everythin'. You're scared shitless of the girl—" I hefted my shoulder into a shrug, "Can't say I blame ya, freaky ass zombie bitch."

Neil stared at me, offended, before he scoffed out, "You're crazy."

"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date and we're crazy?" Dean stared him down, "When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff."

"Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey." Sam explained.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean stomped over to the other side of the desk, hauling Neil up by the collar.

"Hey! No more crap, Neil." He barked out, "This blood is on your hands." Dean's jaw was set, eyeing him, "Now. Me, him, and her can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is." Neil wouldn't say anything and Dean shook him, "Tell us!"

"My house." He confessed, "She's at my house." _Lie._ I shifted around, noticing the plants by the window and cleared my throat, nodding to them. Dean glanced to me then to the dead plants, understanding. He let Neil go.

"You sure about that?" Dean's voice was eerily calm.

Neil nodded, looking around nervously, occasionally glancing to the closet. I focused on the closet, sensing another pair of eyes on us. They held a murderous intent.

"Neil, listen." I began, "It doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her."

"We've got to perform another ritual over her grave, to reverse the one that you did." Dean added, going along with me, "We're going to need some black root, some-some scar weed, some candles..." He elaborated, "It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done."

"Needless to say, she'll be dead again in a couple hours." I stated, "I think you should come with us."

Dean leaned forward, eyeing the closet as I did, "I'm serious, Neil. Leave with us. Right now."

He shook his head, "No. No."

"Listen to me, man. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool." He told him, voice so low it was hard to hear him, "No sudden movements. Don't make her mad." Dean straightened up, throwing us both a look, "Let's go."

We got the hell out of there, but out of everything I felt within the town, I felt this horrible pain in my neck and it became hard to breathe for a split second. I covered my mouth under the sheet of darkness. Neil was dead.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Graveyard—Night<strong>_

Around Angela's grave, each of us decorated her grave with ritual candles, hoping that Angela had taken the bait. In my honest opinion, she did.

"You really think this is going to work?" Sam asked, lighting one last candle.

Dean shook his head, "No, not really. But it was quick thinking on Abigail's part, and it was the only thing I could really think of."

"That's why you and Abs make a great team." Sam commented just as a noise sounded at a distance. It was her. Alert, Dean nodded to the both of us as we stood and pulled our guns out. Taking the lead, Sam stalked in the direction of the sound with me trailing behind him. Some distance away, we froze. Angela was close. As in, breathing down your neck. I spun around, pointing my gun at her as she stopped short, looking at the gun. Sam spun around doing the same, mouth in a tight line.

"Wait! It's not what you think." She said, "I didn't ask to be brought back. But it's still me. I'm still a person. Please." _Liar._ Sam and I exchanged a glance after hearing her out.

We fired our gun, hitting her square in the forehead in two different places as she screamed; her head snapping back in recoil. Bolting back towards the grave, Sam and I split off. I took my place near a monolith, peeking out from around it when Sam jumped the opened grave, only to be tackled to the ground by Angela. She twisted his head back as if to snap his neck only for me to step out, firing at her. Startled, she stood up, eyes wide in shock.

Dean came out of hiding, shooting her several more times until she fell straight back into the open grave, landing in the empty coffin. I picked up a long metal stake, tossing it to Dean as he ran to the grave, sliding the last length on his knees, and dove into the coffin with her. I didn't have to watch the scene below because I felt it. The stabbing pain in my chest from Angela, the dull ache in my wrist from Sam—Angela let out a piercing scream.

"Wait, don't-!" A sickening squelch, Angela let out a gasp, then silence. Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes, leaning against the monolith and held my wrist against my chest unaware of Sam watching me.

"What's dead should stay dead." Dean told Angela's corpse resolutely, before turning to see me curled up next to the monolith. It didn't take us long to cover up the grave since three people were shoveling dirt at a rapid pace. The sky was beginning to lighten up over the horizon as a telltale sign of the impending morning.

Sam ran the dirt through his hand, "Rest in peace."

"Yeah. For good this time, okay?" Dean quipped, shaking his head at the grave. We turned away, heading for the car—Sam and I grunting as we lifted our shovels over a shoulder.

"You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp." Sam commented to me and Dean with a smile.

I nodded at him, "Thanks."

"But did we have to use me as bait?" He asked.

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy." I scoffed out, "I was right there holdin' your hand." I worked my wrist out with a grimace.

"Besides, I figured you were more her type." Dean added, "You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys."

"I think she broke my hand." Sam commented, working his hand with a grimace.

Dean started laughing, "You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later." He promised, turning back to Mary's grave, pausing. I paused, looking from him to the grave, feeling a longing to maybe stop by there.

"You want to stay for a while?" Sam asked.

"No." Dean said quietly. We dropped our things into the trunk of the car and got in. Dean passed by me, pulling his keys out, "You drive, I'm too tired to think straight." I furrowed my brows at him, taking the keys as he opened the rear driver's side door and climbed into the backseat while Sam and I got into the front. I turned the keys over, revving the car a couple of times, and pulled out.

* * *

><p>Hours had passed, and all was quiet in the Impala except for the radio playing Blue October's <em>Hate Me,<em> much to Dean's displeasure. House rules though, I was driving and he needed to shut up. If he didn't like what I was listening to, well, shouldn't have let me drive. Besides, the song seemed to hold some truth in the words pertaining to the seemingly impending doom of whatever relationship we had. There wasn't going to be any leeway. No more bending, because things were already cracking—just waiting to shatter apart in some catastrophic explosion that was gonna leave a nasty wake.

_I'm sober now for three whole months it's one accomplishment that you helped me with…The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again_. I felt the condescension just ooze out of me, twisting the corners of my mouth into a sneer. It wasn't at no one in particular except for myself. The _one_ thing I could be proud of myself for—other than Megan—I brought back into my life, and it felt like an anvil sat in my jacket pocket.

_In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night…While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight. _I sat, and stewed. Focusing ahead the long, straight and desolate highway that seemed to stretch on for miles, tapering off into the horizon. It was endless, just like the things that were beginning to unfold. Tears sprung up in my eyes like painful pricks of needles.

_You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate…You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take…So I'll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind…And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind_…I hadn't noticed Sam's concerned look until I pulled the car across the side of the road to stop in the opposite shoulder where I got out of the car, despite Sam's concerned questions. I sat on the hood fighting with myself in order to stave off crying. _God_, I hate crying more than anything. The feeling only worsened when both car doors slammed.

"Abigail, what is it?" Sam asked. I crumpled like a house of cards in a windstorm.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, swallowing down the knot in my throat, not looking to either brother. Sam was taken aback, Dean was…indifferent?

"You—For what?" He was confused, glancing to Dean for some source of my apology.

"The way I've been actin'—I've been more or less a self-centered bitch than anythin'." I confessed, peering up at Sam through tear soaked lashes. Sam's eyes flickered over to Dean, who was standing near the driver's side door. I sniffled, wiping away tears quickly, "And for Dad. It's my fault that he's gone."

Sam rounded the front to sit with me on the hood, "What are you talking about?"

"I know you've been thinking it, so has Dean—so have I." I said looking to him fully, and the front of the Impala sunk lower when Dean joined us. Silent. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out." I muttered, keeping my arms tucked into me. Both were silent, waiting to hear me out, "Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery—Megan too. It was a miracle." Dean's cheek was sucked in, "And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone?"

"Abigail…" Sam said lightly.

I scoffed, looking at him with an incredulous look. Hell, I looked to the both of them, "You can't tell me there's not a connection there." Dean stared at me with a knowing look—he had been thinking the same thing, "I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."

Sam shook his head, "We don't know that, Abigail. Not for sure."

"Guys…" I cupped my hand over my mouth a moment before wiping away the tears that were falling. Dean pulled me against him, resting his chin against my head, "You, Dean, Megan, and Dad..." I sat up, putting some space between Dean. He didn't have to hold me, not after what I did, "You're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should've come back, and Megan shouldn't have pulled through."

Sam and Dean both sat in a heavy silence, "It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead." I looked over to Dean, "What's dead should stay dead, no matter what the circumstances." His posture stiffened. "You wanted to know how I was feelin', Sam. Well, that's it." Sam nodded holding a troubled look in his eyes, "So tell me, what could you two possibly say to make that alright?" I stared to each man for a good long moment and each of them looked away, speechless, though neither of them moved from me. Not even Dean.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three Days Later…<strong>_

I sat in a chair facing the double doors they took Megan through. Being in the hospital was the absolute worst. There was so many terrible emotions running through me. I would've broke down into a series of hysterical fits if it weren't for me taking a Vicodin beforehand. Now, I was just a nervous wreck—pacing around like some animal in a cage, crying—acting like any nervous and worried parent would do. Sam was sitting with me, hand wound around mine tightly in reassurance.

"She's gonna be fine, Abigail." Sam told me.

I bobbed my legs up and down frantically, "I know it…" I used my free hand to wipe away another onslaught of tears, "I know it…" It was so hard to think in this place. Dean was nowhere to be found for the most part. He'd gone MIA after Megan was carted off behind the doors.

"How long has it been since Dean's talked to you?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "A coupla days…" He shook his head at me, agitated at his brother, "It's fine really. We just need to blow off steam, Sam. Don't get bothered by it."

"No, Abs." He said firmly, "Dean needs to be here with you. She's your all's kid."

"He's probably went to get somethin' to eat…" I offered to get him to hush for a little bit.

"We just ate before leaving Bobby's…" Sam deadpanned, "I'm gonna go find him."

"No." He furrowed his brows at me, confused, "He'll show up." I blew out a sigh trying to stabilize the handling I had on my emotions, "Besides, it ain't your place to clean up his messes."

Sam looked at me with a softened expression, "I know…but he's my brother—_our_ brother—as much as he's a pain in the ass." I cracked a smile, laughing softly.

"You got that right, Sammy…" A pair of boots hitting the ground from a distance was evident that Dean was making his return. I didn't bother looking at him when he took a seat beside me. I leaned forward, holding my face in my hands. Despite the two men speaking over my hunched over form, I couldn't hear them. I had squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. I prayed to whoever and whatever could hear me; _I don't do this often—not as what I should. Just…whoever can hear this; angels, demons, the flyin' spaghetti monster—doesn't matter. _Please_, let everythin' go by smoothly. _Please.

I felt so desperate, like I was at a loss.

_I can't lose her. Not my daughter…Let me know things are goin' to be alright with her surgery…with me and Dean. It doesn't matter what it is. Give me a sign—_I jolted upright, startled by a sudden touch. Sam looked at me, concerned. Reason why? I was crying all over again, and it was becoming quiet sobs. Dean and Sam both were looking at me.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

I nodded, "I'm sorry, guys…" I muttered taking my hands to wipe away the tears.

"Abs…" Dean said lightly as if he were testing out my name once again. I closed my eyes again out of guilt. I couldn't look at him—I haven't spoken to him…not exactly since we came back. He hasn't either. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Everything's going to be alright." He took my hand into his calloused ones in a tender fashion. I felt his worry, his anger, and his fear for our daughter's safety—it was eating him alive that he wasn't there in the same room with her. Another emotion I felt from him was a deep sense of longing that caused my chest to ache.

Not able to find the words to speak, I simply nodded and felt Sam take mine in his as well.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Nothin' to worry about. She's a Winchester."

* * *

><p>"Miss. Winchester? Mr. McGullicutty?" I startled awake, realizing that I had dozen off on Dean's shoulder, and from the looks of it, Dean and Sam had dozed off too.<p>

"Yeah. What's the verdict, doc?" Dean asked, voice husky from sleeping. He rubbed his eyes as I sat up, looking at the doctor, only to gape at him in shock. I knew him! I straight up _knew_ him!

Megan's doctor looked to Dean and me with a smile gracing his youthful features, "Her surgery went by smoothly and flawlessly. We got her all patched up, and she's currently in recovery." Her doctor replied. Dean let out a sigh of relief, bowing his head, and scrubbed his face to wake himself up further while Sam let out a lighthearted laugh, pulling me into an embrace, and kissed my hair in a brotherly fashion. I couldn't do a damn thing but stare at the doctor like he had grown a third eye on his forehead.

"Doc…that's—that's great to hear," Dean finally said, "There's nothing wrong at all? No cleft palate? Nothing?"

He shook his head, smiling in a pleased manner, "Not one sign. I highly doubt she would need any more surgeries. It was just a minor cleft in the soft palate, near her throat." Dean smiled, nodding in relief.

"Good…that's great. Thank you." He told him. The doctor's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"All in day's work." He replied, digging into his pocket, only to pull out a ruby red lollipop, "You three have a good day." As he left, he focused on me and winked, "Like I said before sugar, you two are soap opera _gold_. Try not to kill yourself." He turned on his heels to leave, the paused, "Oh, by the way. Great prank. I knew you had it in you." His lips curled into a grin, then seemingly disappeared right before my eyes with the sound of wings fluttered.

_What the-?! _I stared where the doctor was just standing at in total shock, then I turned to look at Sam. He was talking to Dean—paying no mind to what just happened, and I turned to look at Dean. He didn't see a thing!

"Abigail," Sam said excitedly, "You look like you saw a zombie."

I blinked, forcing myself to take control of myself, "What?"

Sam laughed, glancing to his brother, "Did you not hear a thing the doctor said?"

I swallowed, "Uh…yeah. Yeah. I heard."

"Isn't that great?" He asked, "No more surgeries."

I smiled, "Yeah. Awesome. I couldn't be anymore happier." Then I turned to Dean, uncomfortable. His eyes held mine, seeming to have a mutual feeling as I did, before he pulled me into him, kissing my forehead.

_Everything's going to be alright_, it seemed to say as he forced himself to pull away from me. Dean rose to his feet, running his hands through his hair in a stretch where his shirt lifted to expose the lower half of his abdomen. It seemed a little dirty of me to fixate on that, but there was a little flourish of hope that was my own, that told me things were going to start looking up. Even if he wasn't talking to me, I knew he still cared, and I was stupid.

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><p><strong>How 'bout this chapter?! My heart absolutely broke while I wrote it out. There were a few times where I wanted to punch my computer! Did it make your jaws drop? Just keep in mind, things are gonna get worse before they get better! Don't lose hope in Dean and Abigail (or me)!<br>**

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><p><strong>I'd love to thank <em>Ladysunshine6<em> for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things-the pool scene-and I want to say thank you to _grapejuice101_ for giving me ideas! I'll definitely put it to use in future chapters since I forgot to do that in this (I'm so sorry)!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**UPDATE: I finally found the time to try and attempt at making a Tumblr for this series as a whole, and I realize that it is a little bland for my taste, but it's got the job done in my opinion for now. So, if ya'll have one follow me!**

Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <em>Private Parts<em> by Halestorm. (It's a great song, and I seriously listened to it nonstop while writing this!)**

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><p><strong><span>grapejuice101<span>- Thank you! I deeply appreciate you PMing me with ideas!**

**angelicedg- She's definitely has a new ability, that's for sure, but it's taking toll on her!**

****sarahmichellegellarfan1- All in due time! All in due time! I have to agree with you on that one, m'dear! It is _long_ overdue!****

****giddyfan- Thank you so much! That means a lot! I'm glad that I was able to do that! c:****

****ebonywarrior85- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!****

****SassyGrl23- He's being a major ass isn't he? Don't worry, things will get better, I promise! Like Abigail, Dean is getting nightmares of how John died and Abigail flatlining, and it's eating at him-resulting in said chapter and previous chapter. In some way, he feels responsible for that happening, and it causes strain on their relationship because he's so damn stubborn!****


	8. One Step Forward, Take Two Back

_Time is on neither side, no one's wrong_

_And no one's right_

_Hiding pain, Novocain is gonna fade_

_There's no good in goodbye_

_The greatest pretenders forget to remember_

_the lies_

_We're falling together, the ties that we sever_

_Tonight_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NICU—Day<strong>_

_**September 10**__**th**__**, 2006**_

I sat by myself in the NICU with my daughter, eyes red and puffy from crying. The past few days had been hell, nor had I left this room for at least two of them. Megan was fussy, more or less in pain from her stitches, resulting in her not eating all that well. I had been rocking her in one of the rocking chairs for well over an hour, just singing to her as quietly as I could without crying.

I had been singing a song that I adored when things got rough between Dean and I, seeming like it always comforted me with its words, coincidentally, it was called _Mary._ I loved hearing Patty Griffin sing it; her voice had this raspy, sensual tone to it which made me love it that much more. Megan seemed to like it, due to her sleeping soundly. "_Oh Mary, she moves behind me. She leaves her fingerprints everywhere_…" My fingers pushed Megan's beanie up a little to see her little face better, "_Every time the snow drifts, every way the sand shifts…Even when the night lifts, she's always there…_"

"_Jesus said, "Mother I couldn't stay another day longer"…He flies right by and leaves a kiss upon her face…_" I felt my lips twist into a grin when Megan's mouth turned up into one momentarily, I didn't bother looking up from her when I heard the door open, "_While the angels are singin' his praises in a blaze of glory…Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place…_"

Sam and Dean stepped into the room, pausing briefly at the recognition of what I was singing. Sam shut the door quietly until it clicked. Dean however, just looked like he lost his breath for a moment. His eyes widened slightly, then averted his gaze to the floor, "How—" He winced at how loud his voice was, "How long has she been out?"

I hummed the song a little bit before answering, "Thirty minutes or so." Dean moved to the chair beside me, glancing between me and our child with a calm expression painted on his face. Deep within him though, despite our not talking to each other, I always felt this…pain and guilt knot my stomach up. He had long since got over his angry spell from what I did back at the motel. Quite honestly, it was his foolish pride making the best of him. I'm sure mine was a good part of it too, but if he wanted this, then by God, I was gonna give him a taste of his own medicine.

Wordlessly, I eased Megan into his arms feeling his hand brush against my arms as he held her, along with a little ball of tension group in my lower abdomen. After all, it had been a week since I even tried to touch him or speak to him…even longer since Dean and I had voided out any form of intimacy between us.

Once he had our daughter in his arms safely, I retracted my arms; holding my hands in fists almost as if I had been scalded. I didn't miss his eyes flickering to mine as I did so. He licked his lips, a swipe of pink darting out from behind his teeth, before darting back in and smiled down at Megan, his eyes leaving mine for our slumbering child.

Instead of sitting down, I lifted my arms above my head in a stretch. I let out a soft grunt upon feeling my back pop in several places. "You okay?" I looked over to Sam, who was standing nearby, watching. I lowered my arms till they were hanging loosely at my sides, nodding.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, confused.

Sam shrugged in an elusive manner, "It's just…you've been cooped up in here for the past couple of days. Bobby was wondering about you."

"If wonderin' is comin' from Bobby, then he's worryin'," I said with a small smirk, "I'm fine…" I motioned my hand to Megan, "Jus' spendin' time with my daughter is all." Then I crossed my arms, eyeing my little brother's cast. "Besides, how's the wrist?"

Sam gave his wrist a distasteful look. It was snugly wrapped in a cast, prohibiting any movement except for his fingers, in which they wiggled freely. "It's fine." He muttered. I snorted at him in amusement. He was like a lost puppy without the use of his hand, "Hey, uh, did you get a call from Charlie and Kara?"

I raised my brows at him, drawing my face into a drawn out frown. _Yeah. Several._ I thought to myself a split second before I opened my mouth. "Nope. Why?"

Sam tilted his head like he knew something I didn't, "No reason…it's just, uh, Kara called me and said that they've tried to call you." There was this…nagging feeling coming from him—if nagging was the word for it—as he crossed his arms across his chest.

To throw him off, I pulled out my phone, flipped it open, merely glancing through my missed calls, and tossed it across the room to him, "Check it if you don't believe me, Sammy." Dean glanced up from Megan, exchanging a look with Sam as he caught it deftly, scrolling through with knitted brows. With a sigh, he nodded, peering up at me, "See? No missed calls." I told him in a rather snarky, matter-of-fact tone.

"Alright, alright." Sam muttered in a defeated voice, handing it back to me. I shook my head at him, shoving my phone back into my pocket. This was beginning to get ridiculous between Sam hounding me and my uncle calling to check in on me. I felt crappy for ignoring the calls, but I plainly didn't want to be bothered. All I wanted was to be alone, protect Megan, drink myself into a coma with additional help of my relapse, and be done with everything.

I'm sure they could sense it. Hell, a blind man could see it plain as day. With a sigh, I scratched the back of my head, glancing between the two brothers, "But, uh, since you're here…I think I'm gonna crash in the Impala." Dean nodded mutely, carefully moving his hand away from Megan as he dug into his jacket searching for the keys. With a pleasing jingle, he pulled them out, quickly fisting him in his hand to quiet the sound they made. I edged over to him, slowly holding my hand out like some kid about to get in trouble. There was no exchange of words between us, just him simply putting the keys in my outstretched hand, though I made a mental note of him brushing his fingertips along my palm.

Sure, Sam was there, watching us closely. Observing our interactions if we were really trying to work things out like he tearfully wanted back in Illinois. I knew what he was doing. If anything, I think he noticed us distancing ourselves more and more, which often earned us a distasteful eye roll or the occasional bitchface. Dean didn't want Sam to know our turmoil, or our reason for being like this. I didn't blame him. Again, our brother was in the dark.

"Ya'll know where to find me…" I muttered, averting Dean's gaze when he turned to look at me. There was a sense of hurt seeping from him, catching a nod from the both of them. I bent down, pressing my lips to Megan's temple before whispering, "Momma loves you, angel of mine." Leaving the room, I walked out of the NICU and headed out into the parking lot where the Impala was parked underneath a tree. Going from cool to humid and hot, I started to have second thoughts about sprawling out in the back of the car—since it's black and black leather.

I paused to peel my jacket off, rendering me in a black quadruple strap tank top with a lace skull on the front and unlocked the car to climb into the backseat. Rolling down the windows to let a cross breeze in, I fished out a blanket and spread it out across the backseat, then piled my jacket up as a makeshift pillow. Lying down on my back, I stared up to the roof of the Impala, when tears pricked in the corners of my eyes. Blinking, my lashes were instantly matted together in undignified clumps until one after another, tears silently slid down my face after I found it hard to breathe.

It was like a stab to the heart, the pain was. Everything I managed to keep locked away seemed to have found a loophole within their confines, and spilled out. My throat locked as the weight I felt on my chest increased with every passing second that I denied to sob. I even held my breath until I felt my face heat up, chest burn in protest—it was just one of those tiny little tokens one got from sorrow and misery. It was then I let out a loud gasp of air that my borders and walls came crumbling to the ground, and I sobbed. As I let out choking, inaudible sounds, the world around me melted from color to gray like some cheesy movie.

"_Mary…_" I choked out, "_You're covered in roses…you're covered in ruin…you're covered in secrets…You're covered in treetops….you're covered in birds… who can sing a million songs without any words." _I twisted onto my side, covering my mouth with my hand as each sob elicited from my mouth, until unconsciousness swooped in several mind numbing minutes later.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

My eyes went to the ceiling for the hundredth time in the span of two minutes. Sam was on a roll, pacing back and forth, "And she acts like nothing's going on!" I ran a hand down my face, already tired of hearing his crap.

"_You_—" I winced again at how loud my voice seemed to be. Glancing down to the tiny form of my daughter I let out a sigh of relief, "You don't think I know that?"

Sam's lips were in a tight, thin line, "_Dean_, there's something going on with Abigail. She's deleted her call history, and _lied_ about it." After a pause, he shook his head, "I mean, you look at me like I'm stupid!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed. "Can you tone it down?" Sam glanced to Megan, wincing.

"Sorry…" he muttered, turning his eyes to the wall. He fell silent, eyes wandering to each little thing we had placed—souvenirs, photographs…things like that—with a frown, "It's just…I want to believe that things are gonna be okay between you two… so that we can start to be a family again, you know?"

"Things are okay between Abigail and me, Sam." I replied casually, catching the dirty look he gave me, "Look, everything isn't gonna be all honky-dory in the span of six weeks, alright? We've all had it rough. That doesn't mean that—" Megan squirmed against my chest making me stop in mid-sentence to look down, observing and waiting mostly for her to wake up or cry, or do whatever kids do this tiny. She didn't as much as peek from beneath her lashes like she did, only stretched her legs out with a yawn and settled back into her position, dozing back off. I waited a few moments for her to settle back into a deep sleep before turning my eyes back onto my brother, "Nothing's gonna happen between Abigail and I. I can assure you that."

Sam stared at me in a disbelieving manner, "I find it hard to believe you, Dean." I furrowed my brows at him, ready to say something. "You two haven't spoken a word to each other since Megan's surgery, let alone look at each other—it's like the two of you are invisible unless we're here." I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth while my jaw worked in an odd manner. I didn't need him to state the obvious. "So, I mean…are you two really okay?"

"We just hit a rough patch…that's all." I reassured him with a smile. Sam furrowed his brows, staring with that infuriating puppy-dog look. He wanted me to talk—to open up and spill the beans about everything—but that just wasn't my cup of tea. There we were, leaving him in the dark. It was better that way. He didn't deserve to see how miserable we were. The endless hours of silence that would go by. Not a peep from Abigail, not even a smile or a glance.

And all of this was one big, empty void in my chest. I didn't want to talk about it.

Sam let out a sigh, "Alright. If that's all it is…" I glanced up at him, seeing his defeated expression. There was no doubt that he was worried and concerned about us. Perhaps even more concerned since Kara and Charlie _both_ called looking to talk to Abigail, only for us to find out that she hasn't been answering their calls, "I'm going to make Abigail go to Charlie's."

I furrowed my brows at him, "What?"

Sam nodded, "Well…we're going to make her go."

"Dude, no. I'm not making Abigail to anything she doesn't want to do." I replied, earning a dirty look from my brother.

"Look man, she needs to talk to them whether she wants to or not."

"And she can do that when she feels like it," I stated, "There's obviously a reason why she's doing this, and I'm not gonna push it."

Sam shook his head, getting upset once again. "See what I mean, Dean? We have a problem and you don't want to address it…the _both_ of you need to get away for a while, so we're going to Kara and Charlie's."

I scoffed, "Not while my kid's in this hospital, Sam."

"A couple of days, Dean." Sam said, trying to coax me into this stupid idea of his, "That's all I'm askin'. Two or three days, and we'll come right back."

I rolled my eyes at my brother, "Sammy—"

"Dean." There was a bit of force behind his voice, "Her family is worried sick about her-about you."

"What'd you do? Tell our life story?" I snapped.

"No. I told them that I'd have her talk to them one way or another…" He shrugged impishly, "Then I might've said something about you two being grade-A asshats."

I stared at him incredulously, "You're the asshat…asshat." I fumbled over my words like some fool.

Sam smirked, "So, we going or not?" We sat in silence. For a long while I sat and debated it. Megan's tiny body was resting peacefully, and I didn't want to part with her this quick. Granted, she was improving every day that made her the miracle baby in the NICU, and a couple of days was a short amount of time…however, that was time _away_ from my daughter. I ended up bobbing my leg up and down in agitation, "Well?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." I snapped, earning a hopeful look from him, before I sighed, "You know she's going to kill us, right?"

Sam grinned.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**September 11**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Interstate—Early Morning**_

"Sammy, do we really gotta do this?" I implored, sitting in the backseat as the familiar blue coloration of the Appalachian Mountains surrounded us. In response to my whiny tone, Sam's eyes narrowed at me in the rearview mirror. He wasn't too amused at my childish behavior once I figured out where he and Dean was taking me—Charlie and Kara's.

"Yes, Abigail." Sam replied for the hundredth time over the course of our fifteen hour drive. I slumped in the back, tilting my head back in an overdramatic groan, "Look." His voice was curt, making me stare at him with a pout, "They're worried about you. You won't answer their calls or call them back."

"Yeah. There's a reason behind that—I don't wanna talk to anyone. Main word is _anyone_, in case you didn't know." I quipped. Sam shook his head at me, exasperated. His shaggy hair swished back and forth at the motion bringing up the urge to quip about his hair needing a trim. I decided against it. Dean, sitting shotgun, was silent; observing us, "I'd rather be with Megan. I can't keep leavin' her like this. It ain't right."

"Comes along with the territory, Abigail." Sam said, "Besides, they're your family."

I scoffed, "Yeah, well…abandonin' my kid isn't on my To-Do list, last time I checked." I caught Dean's head tilt to the side in an agreeing manner, looking to Sam. It wasn't on his agenda either, "Can't we just go to the roadhouse?"

"No."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Seriously." My head fell back, hitting the backseat with a thump. Dean wasn't going to be any help. He barely spoke to me since Megan's surgery, which was a no brainer. Sitting up there, silent as ever, I could feel that he was mutually irritated at Sam that we were making this trip away from our daughter. It felt unnecessary—much like Dean found going to the graveyard in Illinois to visit a headstone. There wasn't going to be case, or a job, or a hunt, or anything!

That was when I started getting antsy. My hands started to shake when I brought them up to rub my face. Clenching them, I shook my head, leaned forward in the seat, and wrapped my arms around me like I had done many a time when I felt anxious. I sincerely hoped we weren't staying long.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Charlie and Kara's Home—Morning<strong>_

_**Charleston, West Virginia**_

Pulling into the long driveway, I could feel excitement and concern from within the house. I had to put on my game face—make it seem like I was fine. After all, I'm the Queen of Fine. Sam put the Impala in park just as the front door opened. Kara was the first to come out, then Charlie. I sucked my bottom lip in, chewing on the dried skin pensively. Sam and Dean got out, then me after I grabbed my bag from the backseat.

Charlie gently pulled me into him, pressing his lips into my hair as he wrapped me in a tight embrace, "Hey there, kiddo."

I strained a smile upon feeling his concern and worry ebb into that of relief that I was standing there in front of him, "Hey Charlie…"

"You doin' okay?" He asked, keeping a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah…I'm alright." I muttered as he nodded. Being the first to approach Kara, her face knitted into a look of worry, hugging me tightly.

"We've been so worried about you." She whispered, "How's Megan doin'?"

We pulled back and I shrugged, "She's doin' better. Her stitches are gettin' taken out in a couple of days."

"Is she eatin' better?"

"Oh yeah. There's no change in her eating habit." Dean answered, stepping up onto the stoop with his duffel in tow. Charlie nodded, relief washing over him as he extended his hand out to Dean. He returned the gesture with a firm shake before Charlie pulled him in to an embrace, "I've missed your musk." Dean joked, earning a belly-laugh from my uncle. His voice boomed across the quiet property, echoing back from the surrounding mountains.

"You too, man. You too." He chuckled out, and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder with a sincere expression, "Listen, I hate to hear 'bout your old man. Toughest sum'bitch Steven and I knew." Dean nodded, shifting in his spot. Briefly, his eyes landed on me like he did when he needed me to bail him out of an uncomfortable situation. I averted my gaze to Sam as he finally joined us with his duffle bag in his hand. He didn't escape the manhug from Charlie or the teary eyed hug from Kara, which threw him off a little

"Well, come in." Charlie announced, "Ya'll know what to do; make you'ns comfortable."

Coming into the foyer, the smell of cinnamon and apples elated our senses causing Dean to breathe in deeply, closing his eyes, then exhaled; a smile gracing his features for the first time in days. He turned to look at Kara with a hopeful expression in his eyes, "Please tell me that's apple pie."

Kara grinned, "Apple dumplin's—they're like apple pies, but smaller an' softer."

Dean clapped his hands together, licking his lips, "Alright then, when do we eat?"

"Dude, you just ate an hour ago." Sam stated, astonished that his brother was possibly hungry.

"Yeah. That was an hour ago, Sam. A whole hour. I'm starving here!" Kara laughed lightly as we came into the living room, dropping our bags near the couches.

"Well, you're gonna have to wait there, I just put them in." She told him, then wrapped her arm around mine with a grin. "I'm gonna go check on Gavin, he's been fussy lately. You wanna go with me and see 'im?" My eyes flickered over to Dean and Sam briefly, before I nodded.

"Why yeah." Her grin still in place, Kara practically drug me up the stairs, down the hall, and to the last room before their room. Entering, I was in awe at Gavin's nursery. The room was painted in a neutral gray tone with white trim lining the walls. One wall, however, had a series of wood planks painted different shades of gray, blue, and white. A plaster bust of a deer hung vertical to the navy blue and white crib and beside it in big wooden letters were his initials. I loved it, and yet, I felt jealous that I couldn't give Megan a room like this…I mean I could, I just didn't want to coup up Charlie and Kara's house.

Kara and I drew near the crib, peering down into it. From beside me, I could feel the love and compassion she had towards her son as we watched Gavin's form sleep contentedly, "You know," Kara said lightly, "I can stand here for hours and just watch him sleep." I kept my eyes lowered, avoiding any form of eye contact, "He's the most precious thing…" My gut knotted up with remorse and realized that it wasn't mine. Kara sniffled, turning towards me with tears in her eyes, "I can't imagine what it's like for you and Dean…"

"It's hard…" I whispered out, feeling the painful prick of tears in my eyes. Bringing my hand up, I swiped underneath them to rid myself of the pesky tears, "I don't like leavin' her…y'know?"

Kara nodded, "I can only imagine."

I pulled my bottom lip in for a moment, capturing it between my teeth. "To be honest, I didn't want to come…I don't want to do anythin'—jus' sit in the room with Megan." Kara's hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing it softly in reassurance.

"Abby, don't think me or Charlie's mad at you for not pickin' up your phone, we're not." I swallowed the lump of guilt in my throat as she spoke, "You're havin' a hard time…you and Dean and Sammy; you three jus' lost your daddy. That's a hard thing to overcome."

"Yeah, tell me about it…" I muttered, wiping another round of tears. Her lips pressed into a thin line, staring at me with a soft, understanding look in her eyes, "My second time 'round."

Her face knitted into a sympathetic look, "I couldn't help but notice somethin' goin' on between you an' Dean when ya'll showed up…" I closed my eyes, dipping my head forward. _How'd she know that?_

"Sam told us when we got a hold of him." She added.

I was quiet for a moment, trying to refrain from speaking the truth. I didn't have the heart to lie to her. "I'd be lyin' if I said yes." I admitted, feeling her chest clench out of sympathy, "We're not fine…nothin' about us is fine. It's like we're movin' in the completely opposite direction…" I blew out a breath, "All of us are pretty messed up after John…" _died_. I couldn't finish my sentence, but Kara knew. She hugged me, resting her chin on my shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Everythin's gonna be alright, Abby." I squeezed my eyes close to prevent more tears from coming out, "My momma always told me that things are gonna get bad before they can get better, and I believe that."

We pulled away, and I looked at her through tear soaked lashes; uncertainty etched across my face, "Really?"

Kara nodded firmly, "Yes. You just gotta hang in there. It's not just about you and Dean—you have Megan to think about. I know you three are hurtin'," I slowly nodded, "and I know you and Dean are fightin' real bad," My eyes fell, "but I do know that you two love each other." Kara's hands moved from my shoulders to my face and smiled, "Right?"

I chewed on my bottom lip at the thought, "Without a doubt."

"Then you two will pull through." I was speechless at how optimistic Kara was of Dean and I's relationship and I wasn't. _Did we really let it get this bad?_

When I finally could find the words to speak, Gavin let out a sharp cry that made me jump a little. Kara giggled at me. It wasn't something I was really used to, as much as I desperately wanted it. I watched Kara bend over the crib and pick up my cousin. A small, soft smile formed on my lips upon seeing a pair of big, blue eyes staring back at me with tears in them. His pooched out lip was just the icing on the cake that caused me to grin at him. Surprisingly when I held my hands out to hold him, he went to me.

I held him close, bowing my head a little to look at Gavin closer, "You poor thing," I said with a small laugh as he popped his fist into his mouth, "…shrivel away to nothin'." Kara grinned at the both of us, thrilled.

"C'mon, I'll go make him a bottle." She said. I nodded, allowing Gavin to wrap his hand around my finger. I was grinning from ear to ear, wiggling my finger and his hand back and forth as we walked out from his room, descended the stairs and came up on the men in the living room. They were all standing, talking about something—_obviously _—when they paused, turning to us.

Kara practically skipped over to Charlie as the two kissed; both grinning like two high school kids, "Look who woke up from their nap," She said, motioning to their child in my arms. Charlie stared at his son from where he stood—yielding to the fact that I was deeply engrossed to packing Gavin around at the moment—with a smile. Sam and Dean were reserved, watching me interact with my baby cousin with sympathetic looks. Dean had this distant stare though, like he was in deep thought.

"He grew." Sam commented lightly, earning a chuckle from my uncle.

"Damn right he did." Charlie said proudly, "Kid's growin' like a weed, doin' different things e'ryday, always tryin' to motivate around, but he hasn't quite figured it out." His smile widened into a toothy grin, curling his arm around Kara's waist as he shook his head, "Gets madder 'n fire."

Gavin's head bobbed, turning to the source of the familiar voice of Charlie, and grinned, making a series of happy squeals and babbles. All of us broke out into smiles though, mine faltered. I wanted my daughter—to hold her like I was with Gavin right now, to see her eyes light up at the sight of Dean and Sam and me when she first wake up from a nap. I swallowed down a lump that was beginning to form, not noticing Dean's eyes falling on me.

"How big's Megan got?" Charlie asked.

He jumped slightly at the question as he was brought out from his thoughts. "She's, uh, four pounds and I think she's almost seventeen inches." Dean replied, looking over to me for confirmation. I nodded, seeing him smile over to Charlie, "Gaining weight like crazy."

My uncle nodded his head, "Betcha she's got you'uns wrapped around that tiny finger of hers."

Dean peered down at the floor a second with a grin, "Ah, not as much as what I thought." _Lie._

"Don't let 'im lie to ya, he's head over heels for 'er—both of 'em." I added softly, rocking Gavin back and forth in my spot. With a slobbery fist, he bopped me right in the face, making me flinch. Kara giggled while the other three chuckled, and I laughed at him, "I hear ya, son. I'm gonna give you back to your momma, and maybe next time you won't beat me half to death." I kissed his forehead quickly before handing him back to Kara, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen.

We all took a seat at the rather large sectional couch that was a mile wide. Dean quickly made himself at home, taking his jacket off and button up shirt. I wanted to pretend like everything was alright and sidle in beside him, be held close with his hand on my waist, but it felt like it would've been rehearsed.

"So, catch me up on what you'uns have been into. Ya'll been busy?" Charlie asked, sitting in his claimed seat with his legs crossed.

"Sort of," Sam started, "We've been taking jobs here and there…we take time off to spend time with Megan."

Charlie nodded, "Understandable. How do you do it, like take turns stayin' behind?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, we try to…but lately Sam and I's been taking Abs with us. Don't want her to get rusty."

I snorted, "In your dreams, Winchester." Dean smirked, eliciting some kind of brief chuckle until I peeled off my jacket to reveal the long pink scar I had on my chest from Gordon. Dean and Charlie stared at it. Guilt and concern made it clear who it came from.

"Mind tellin' me what happened?" Charlie prompted with an arched brow over to Dean and I. Dean shifted under his gaze.

"A mistake that won't happen again." Dean assured, "I made a bad call, and it got her hurt."

Sam glanced at me with a confused expression. _A mistake? We saved lives_—_kind of_. "I don't see how savin' lives was a mistake." Dean threw me a glance that dared me to elaborate, "Comes with the territory."

"Elaborate for me then," Charlie folded his arms, interested in our fiasco with Gordon Walker. Dean shook his head, not wanting to remember that event. It was a bad call on his part, but with Sam and me, it meant a little more than a mistake; it opened our eyes to a lot of possibilities, changed our way of thinking on what we hunted.

_How many supernatural beings existed solely because of people believing in them? How many monsters had we killed that actually meant well and didn't mean harm to humans?_ I know it changed a lot of things for me, including John's outlook on them—shoot first, ask questions later. That rendered it moot. Sam and Dean took turns speaking, talking about their take of Gordon, what happened, and what was going to happen. Dean didn't mention that we were fighting, or about the fact that he endangered Megan's life.

"Charlie, man, you shoulda seen Abs." Dean added with a proud grin, "Tougher than a pine knot." Charlie's eyes softened at that, "She got a few blows, but she handed them right back to Gordon."

Charlie's hand went to his beard, running his fingers through it a couple of times out of thought, "Gordon's always been a sick puppy. Nothin' satisfies the sum'bitch unless he's killin'. It is quite the eye opener though with those veggie vamps." He said to Sam with a grin, "Good call to overturn a bad'n in my opinion." Dean fell silent, unsure of how to process Charlie's praise, "As for Abby-girl, I never had a doubt about 'er. The three of you had an exceptional teacher."

"Mighty kind of you to say that," Dean said, humble. Charlie nodded, looking at the three of us when Kara came back into the room with Gavin and a bottle. The atmosphere went from serious to bubbly in the matter of seconds. I finally gave in to the urge to sidle in beside Dean, quietly watching Charlie and Kara interact with their child. I felt his arm wind around me, and his hand rest on the back of my leg. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Dean felt a little envious of my uncle and Kara, I think Sam was a little envious about it too, but this was supposed to keep my mind off of things…_talk_.

"Oh, by the way, those dumplin's should be done in no time," Kara piped up. Dean snapped out of whatever thought he had and smiled.

"I can't wait." He said with a smile in his voice, running his fingers subconsciously across the material of my jeans as if we haven't been mad at all. It was unbeknownst to him that I was fully aware of everyone emotions. Every stroke against my leg was something he was holding onto with a firm grip, for in the matter of seconds, minutes, and hours—I wouldn't be near him.

* * *

><p>Later that night, under the cover of darkness I slipped out of bed, careful to not disturb Dean. This had long since become my routine; wait an hour or so for him to drift off to sleep, then pass out on the couch. Dean's light snores and even breathing assured me that he wasn't going to wake up, so as slowly as I could, I slipped out from under the warmth of the comforter. Dressed in a pair of blue plaid lounge pants that I had stolen off of Dean a while back and a white camisole, I padded over to the open bedroom door. Pausing at the door, I turned to stare at my sleeping boyfriend. He was every sense of the word 'calm'. His usual terse appearance was smoothed out into a peaceful and rather youthful expression. My heart tugged painfully at the sight of him in this peaceful state. Slipping out undetected, I went up the hallway to Gavin's room.<p>

Entering, I heard movement coming from within his crib as well as little coos told me that he was wide awake. I approached the edge of his crib to see him looking around with a big grin. Smiling back at him when he saw me, I waggled my fingers at him, "Hey, buddy." His chunky little legs kicked out with excitement, "You wanna break out of this thing and hang out?" I asked.

Gavin went into a little series of kicking his legs and flailing his arms about, spitting bubbles. I chuckled at him, bending over to pick him up. We went through the usual routine with any baby; diaper change, bottle, and a comfortable place to hole up in. Since everyone was in a dead sleep, Gavin and I roamed the halls and house until we were back in his room sitting in the half-bed Kara had in there. Laying him on his side closest to the wall, I curled myself around him with my back facing outwards, watching in awe at this tiny little boy desperately wishing that Megan could be this size.

"You know, you'd like your cousin." I said lightly, "Her name's Megan and she's roughly about the size of a pineapple. It's not very big, really…but she's growin' everyday it feels like." Big blue eyes stared back at me, "If I'm gone for any amount of time, it just feels like I missed somethin' important. She's grown more, she's doin' somethin' new, or makin' some big achievement that I didn't see." I reached my hand out to slide my finger under Gavin's hand, only for it to be popped into his mouth. I giggled softly as he gummed at it, "Megan gets bigger, I'll bring her back over and you two can have a playdate…get to know your cousin."

A smile tugged at my lips in a tired fashion, "Playdate…never thought I'd be sayin' stuff like that. Never thought I'd be in this position I'm in either."

Thirty minutes passed by and Gavin had conked back out with me right beside him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Charlie and Kara's House—Night**_

It had to be around midnight when I woke up. Instinctively, I reached my arm out to the other side of the bed—Abigail's side—to find it cold and empty. Again. With a grunt, I raised up onto an elbow rubbing my face with my left hand before I moved to get out of bed. The cool hardwood floor greeted my bare feet when I stood up, making my way out to the hallway. I already knew where Abigail would be at, sound asleep on the couch until each morning, always starting at night. Descending the stairs slowly, I stopped short to see the large sectional couch void of my girlfriend causing my chest to clench painfully at the realization that she might've skipped out on us.

That was quickly shoved down upon further inspection. Moving around the large furniture, there was a spot that had been disturbed recently. I spent the better half of thirty minutes walking through the living room, kitchen, downstairs, and garage until I could've kicked myself for being stupid—Gavin's room. From the arsenal room, I climbed the stairs passing our room, Sam's room; only to pause and peek inside seeing the television on and my brother sound asleep, and silently came to Gavin's room.

Charlie had showed it to Sam and I earlier while Kara and Abigail went to town, and I couldn't help but feel envious that I couldn't give my own daughter something like this. My search for Abigail quickly ended upon seeing her curled up in the half bed with Gavin splayed out beside her. I lost my breath seeing her in such a serene state. There were no signs of being burdened with the absence of our daughter written on her face, there was no sign that she was falling apart, and there was no look of shame or betrayal written in her expressions. It was just…calm; sated if that was the right word, or even pacified.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the edge of the half bed wary that any sudden movement would wake Abigail or the baby up. That wouldn't make me look creepy at all, would it? Running my hand gently against her hair, I needed to figure out a way to make things right between us. There had to be. Spotting the gray ottoman nearby, I slid it over carefully, ensuring that it wasn't going to make a sound, then lowered myself on it. Clasping my hands under my chin, I sat and watched the two sleep soundly.

I felt the corners of my mouth tip into a sad smile. Abigail was positioned over her cousin in a protective manner, knowing instantly that'd be how she would lay with Megan. Watching her interact with Gavin all day made it clear that she was already a good Mom, and yet it killed her to not be one, just like it killed me not being a Dad. There were too many hands doing our jobs, too many eyes that got to witness our child growing while we were here of all places. The thought itself bothered me, much like it bothered her. She hated being put on the sidelines back at the NICU, hated being separated for long lengths of time, and couldn't stand the fact that they poked around on Megan several times a day.

My smile faltered though knowing this time at night was the only time I got to look at her like this. Awake, Abigail would shy away and distance herself, often holding a grudging look in her eyes. It would always be overshadowed with shame and guilt, _from her dumbass stunt_. I had more problems to deal with and it was just piling on every day it seemed. The lack of being able to just reach out and touch her arm, hand, or some part of her body was an experience all of its own. The loss of that contact—that physical contact—was enough to gut me alive. I craved it like any man would. I missed it, but most of all, I missed her smile and her laugh. It hurt me more to not see that than what I would care to admit.

Lowering my head, I clenched my jaw. If we couldn't figure out a way to get past whatever rut we were in, then…I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. _Losing her? No. Hell no._

Abigail moved and I froze. I stared at her, wide-eyed that she was awake, and saw her lift herself up, only to move onto her back where she settled back down with her right arm raised above her head and her left stretched out. I waited a good thirty minutes to move, watching her ever so carefully when I slipped her hand into mine like I had done every night.

"Abs, I know you can't hear me…but we're gonna get this fixed. We're gonna be a family again." Even though I wasn't the one who had done the stunt, I felt responsible. And I was. I sighed, "If I lose you, then I lose a piece of myself, and I can't deal with that."

"I'm not even mad at you anymore…" Closing my eyes, I shook my head again, "I'm an ass. Grade-A douche-bag, Abs. So I don't blame you for doing what you did. I shoulda talked to you like you wanted…" Her chest rose and fell evenly. In the illuminated room, my eyes found their way to her neck where the necklace I had made her the year before glinted, "I love you, Abs…until the sun dies."

I remained sitting in the room for countless hours, watching over them until the early morning, and slid the ottoman back into place. Before I left, I lowered myself once more to her level and pressed a whisper of a kiss to her forehead, retreating back into the bedroom.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Morning**_

My fingers moved deftly across the neck of the guitar as I plucked away at the strings with my right hand. Wordlessly, I played _Mary_ in the morning air. I had been the first to wake up, putting Gavin in his crib as I left his room and picked my way outside onto the porch with a guitar in my hand. Sam was the next to wake up, fully dressed and rearing to go.

"Mornin'," I greeted as he came onto the porch, getting ready for his usual morning run.

He paused, seeming a little bewildered that I was up before him. His eyes swept my appearance in, "Uh, morning." Sam shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes, "How long have you been up?"

I shrugged, "A while. Before the sun came up."

"So you slept?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"And?"

I stopped playing, looking up at him with an arched brow, "And, I slept pretty good." I sensed his approval as his eyes lit up at that.

"I'm glad… what about you and Dean?" He prompted.

"Eh…" His brow rose, "We're okay, I guess…I dunno. I don't really want to talk about my relationship this early in the day."

Sam nodded, "Gotcha…so, uh, I'll be back."

"Whatever you say Schwarzenegger." I teased as he bent over to quickly plant a kiss in my hair, before he mussed it up, "Seriously?! This early?!" I swatted at his arm before he practically ran off the steps, laughing the entire way down. I smoothed my hair down watching as he disappeared from sight until I started from the beginning of _Mary. _Again, I was silent, not really feeling the urge to sing—only to play. From inside, I could sense Dean watching and listening nearby.

Like back at the hospital, my heart clenched painfully just as his did, yet this time it was more intense. He was expecting words, but none came.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's POV<strong>_

I stood near the window with a steaming cup of coffee in my hands, listening to Abigail strum away at the guitar, talk to Sam and watch them interact. It made me jealous, which is a bad thing to say considering that Sam's my brother and all, however it made my blood boil. When Sam tore off down the steps after noogying her, I couldn't help but smile at it. For an hour or so I stood in place watching her, even after Sam had come back from his usual hamster wheel run.

At the wordless songs she played, I only imagined her singing them to Megan—soft and delicate. She had been unaware of my presence, even when a firm hand clapped onto my shoulder, causing me to jump a foot. I spun around, meeting Charlie's grin, and laughed nervously, "Charlie, you scared the crap outta me, man."

"Did I?" He asked with a chuckle. His eyes glanced behind me, out to the porch were Abigail was at, tipping his head at her direction, "She's a good player, ain't she?"

I glanced over my shoulder, "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely." I replied, and took a pull of my coffee, "Could listen to her all day. Be better if she would sing though."

Charlie hummed, "That it would." He patted me on the shoulder, "C'mon, let's move this conversation outside." I followed him out onto another section of the porch, farther down away from her, and on the backside of the house. We settled into a set of rocking chairs, staring out at the mountainous landscape, "Good view this mornin'."

I glanced over at him and nodded, "Yeah. Sure is." In silence, I allowed myself to drift off into my thoughts, thinking of Abigail with Gavin. I began to think of how good she is with kids in general. She had some sort of touch. Around the corner, it sounded like, Abigail began to play Led Zeppelin's _Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You_, and my heart twisted like some strange omen. Charlie was humming it with closed eyes as he rocked back and forth in the rocking chair.

I took pull of my coffee tasting the strong, roasted flavor it held. It coated my tongue in velvety texture, almost like a good scotch, and damn, did I want some. I glanced down at the coffee almost wishing it would magically become some kind of liquor.

Charlie nudged me. I blinked a few times, bewildered. He had a flask in his hand, unscrewed with a grin, "You look like you need to be perked up."

_Shit._ "You're some kind of saint, Charlie, I'm tellin' you." I took the silver flask from him as he chuckled, resuming his even pace in the chair as I poured the flask's contents into my coffee. I took a swallow from the flask itself, and relished in the fact that it was whiskey—good whiskey.

"So, everythin' okay between the two of you'ns?" he asked. I turned my head at the question, handing back his flask, noticing his calm expression was laced with concern.

"We're great." I answered falsely, "Couldn't be better."

His brow raised at me, still in that even tempo he's been rocking back and forth to. To be honest, the look made me squirm. I've seen the look before many a time. It was one most pissed off father's held that look when they realize their 'little girl's' had been hurt or something like that. Quite possibly a look that I was going to have one of these days.

Apparently Sam had overheard Charlie's question as well as my answer as he was coming outside to join us, and just _had _tooffer his two cents, "Dean," Sam came in with a concerned look. "This has been going on for a while." Charlie paused, turning his head to fully look at me. I snapped my head back to Sam with a glare, _Thank you, Dr. Phil_. "Now, what happened?"

"It's between me and her." I replied simply. Our business didn't need to be broadcasted, but since Sam was always around us at the time, I guess it was. Truth is, I couldn't tell them what she did; making me think that she slipped away from me like at the hospital.

"Boy, I know when a man's hurtin'… I've seen a few in my day." Charlie lamented.

I took a deep breath, running a hand down my face, "That woman can be so manipulative..."

"Aren't they all?" He quipped.

I snorted, "Oh you have no idea. A week ago, I found her face down in the pool." Charlie furrowed his brows and ceased his rocking.

"Do what now?" He implored.

Sam blinked a few times to ensure he heard me right, "What? Abigail?"

"Yeah…" I muttered, taking a large swallow of my spiked coffee tasting the bite of alcohol behind it. _There we go._

"My God…" Sam said in disbelief.

"I pulled her out of the pool, and laid her down. She didn't answer me when called her name." I licked my lips, pushing myself back and forth in an agitated rock, "I thought I lost her again…Then she kissed me."

"Wait, so… you got Sandlotted by Abigail?" Sam said, shocked. "Dude, I thought only you could pull something like that." He started laughing with Charlie joining in. A burst of anger surged through me.

"Dude, we watched her get shocked by those doctors. You should know what it feels like to lose the one person you care about the most." Sam's laughter subsided, staring at me with those big eyes. _Dammit,_ I thought. I kicked myself in the ass for mentioning Jess that way.

"Dean that was a hard moment for the both of us." Sam's voice was tense, but light.

I hung my head, "That my point, Sammy." I explained. "I promised myself I'd never see her like that again, and she had the gall to pull something like that?"

Charlie let out sigh, "Dean, I know how you feel." He said, trying to level with me. "I almost lost Kara in an accident too. We were in a car accident, like y'all were, except, this was some drunk yahoo and not some demon. I woke up and found her bleedin' somethin' awful." I was surprised at how calm he was, "I barely felt a pulse, and she wasn't breathin'. No matter how much pain I was in, I just wanted her to breathe, an' be here with me. She came back, thank God." Sam and I were gob smacked, "But, I kept that fear that she would be outta my sight; never left her side."

I never knew that they were in a car accident. I wondered if Abigail knew about this. I saw this strong man look deeply wounded at the memory, "After she got outta the hospital, she had a breakdown, she walked into traffic in town, and I ran after her; scared that she was goin' to get hit. I pulled her to the side, scared—kinda like you were, Dean—and she realized what she had done was wrong." He finished. "Dean, we both talked about the accident, from both sides, and we listened to what the other had to say. Maybe, you and Abigail should listen to each other."

"I told her everything, and she did too." I said, hotly.

"But if she said everythin', she wouldn't still be actin' like this." Charlie replied. "Dean, I ain't your daddy, but I do know that you have got to be there for her for matter what."

"He's right Dean," Sam added gently, "Megan needs the both of you, and quite frankly—," His lips quirked into a grin, "you're moody when the two of you aren't getting along."

I stared at him for a moment with an incredulous look, "I'm not moody. You're moody."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

As the day wore on, I was getting antsy. I needed some kind of solitude away from prying eyes, and I somehow found it out at Charlie's stables amongst the horses. I spent the better half of two hours mucking out the stalls, brushing out the horses, and slipping them each a bite of a Snickers bar. Biting my lip, I looked over my shoulder wondering if it would be a crime to get one of them out and just…take off. I decided against it a few times until I came to a blue roan pinto. Peering in between the bars to get a better look at the gender, I saw that it was a mare. I reached out to pat her on the nose, feeling the velvety softness under my fingertips, and relished it. Aside from riding, petting them was one of my favorite things to do.

"You wanna bust outta here for a little while?" I asked her. There was a snort in response, causing me to grin, "I'm takin' that as a yes, ol' girl." I unlatched her stall, taking her by the cloth halter she had on, and led her out to where I could slip it off, "We're gonna do a little bareback, if that's okay with you." She kept still for me after I patted her neck and lifted myself onto her back. Squeezing my knees, the pinto mare shot out of the barn like a bat out of hell. Needless the say that she left me breathless. The only thing I wanted to feel was the wind in my hair, the horse's hoof falls in a rhythmic beat, and the occasional whinny or snort coming from the beast. I rode through the winding trails, allowing briars to smack me in the face or tear at my arms. The sight of blood was oddly comforting along with the stinging sensation I felt after a minute passed. It let me know I was alive.

Suddenly the horse skidded to a halt, shifting uncomfortably in her place, ears swiveling every which way. She was scared of something, but what? I leaned forward, reaching my hand out to pat her neck gently, "Hey…" I soothed the frightened mare, "'s alright. What do you see?" Lightly, I squeezed my knees together to urge her on, only for the frightened horse to stomp her left hoof with a snort. I winced, holding my hand to my head when the voices had reached an all-time high of volume. It was basically a roar, where I couldn't even begin to hear what was around me.

_Don't go ahead…He's watching you…Turn and leave!_ They would say. I nudged the horse with my feet, keeping a firm hand on my hand and another on the lower half of her mane when she jolted forward in a dead gallop. Something was scaring my uncle's horse, which made me increasingly wary even if my head was being overrun with yells and roars from voices I _knew_ weren't real. In spite of myself and the voices, I sought out a voice. One that was always comforting, always there when I needed comfort…but I couldn't hear it. Not even one whisper.

That was when I was suddenly launched into the air. I didn't even know what happened or what caused the move. All I know is that I hung in the air for a split second, felt a crushing weight into my thigh, and then a solid hit with my body altogether. I couldn't even move to curl up. I laid spread out, staring numbly into the sky with the sound of hooves thundering against the ground rapidly getting quieter. After what felt like thirty minutes of just lying on the ground, I forced myself to sit up. My hands gripped the grass beneath them, pulling it when a sharp pain erupted from my lower back.

I groaned. That horse had kicked me mid-fall! Another groan surpassed my lips when I started to rub at my leg gingerly. I _had _to get on my feet, assess where I was at. Doing so, I tested out my leg, feeling the strain from being kicked. It just exploded, causing me to grit my teeth when I looked around, twisting my body as I did so. This place was familiar, _way_ too familiar. My heart was hammering against my chest like a sledgehammer once I realized where I was at…

I was home.

I had been bucked off at the same little pond where I would take my brother and sisters, and just let them play. I covered my mouth, hearing the voices and what sounded like children's laughter ring out in the distance. I remembered everything, clear as day.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thirteen Years Ago<strong>_

_"Alright guys, do you want to go on the long trail or the short trail?"_

_"Long!" The three of the said in chorus, and with a roll of my eyes, I smiled._

_"How did I know?" I muttered, placing a hand on my thigh where my Smith and Wesson .09 millimeter handgun was strapped securely. I never left without it, for the exception of school, "M'kay, Mikey, you're up front, Shelbs, you're in the middle, and Alyssa, you're in front of me."_

_My brother looked back at me with a smile as he nudged Oreo in the sides. The pinto gelding began walking, followed by the Appaloosa mare, then the little palomino. Gently nudging Dunn, he then began to walk, the sounds of hooves hitting the floor echoed until we made it outside until they were dull thumps. It was a beautiful day after all, so why not make the best of it?_

_As the day proceeded, the four of us enjoyed our day out in the sun. Resting beside the pond that was on our property, Oreo, Dunn, Dot, and Snickerdoodle stayed near the water's edge drinking as I kept an eye on my siblings who ran around and played tag, whilst I sat in the grass. I couldn't help but have an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I picked up on what spooked 'doodle, but whatever it was, I didn't like it. Something just told me to run or fight, and I frowned at that. Things like that don't normally happen to me while I'm home, but I guess as a hunter, you have to keep your wits about you. This world wasn't as safe as someone who didn't know about the dangers of the supernatural would put it._

* * *

><p>"This isn't happenin'…" I breathed out, refusing to admit that I was close to…<em>it<em>. I looked around, searching for my uncle's horse. It was nowhere in sight, long gone, leaving me stranded. "This ain't happenin'…" My fingers ran throughout my tangled tresses, knowing that I needed to head back in the direction I came from, but didn't. Instead of going the opposite direction, I headed down a short route, the short route I used to take when it was just myself. More or less it took a while since my leg was killing me. I would pause every moment or so, swearing that I was hearing children laughing not too far into The layout was still the same, grown over with shrubs, briars and such, but the same. Each step I took brought me closer to my roots. Where it all began. _One more reason to turn back around and head back to the trail_, my consciousness managed to say.

Once again, my body betrayed me. I pushed on, feeling twigs and gravels pop under my feet, until I came to what appeared to have been the stables. I came up to the doors, seeing a set of chains and pad lock secure the doors, reaching out to fingered around with the lock, inspecting really, and dug out my lock pick set from my coat. In the matter of minutes, I had it unlocked, unchained and slid the stable doors open, entering the abandoned structure with my mini flashlight in tow and not another glance.

It was dark inside, though with boarded up windows, I guess it would be dark. The only sources of natural light other than just the beam from my flashlight came from cracks in the boards, what looked like bullet holes in the side of the walls, and a hole in the roof. In the light given with the help of my flashlight, I peered into each of the empty stalls. No living thing having inhabited it for some time. _Go figure_.

Turning my eyes to the once pristine, stable floor, a deep frown set seeing that the ground under my feet was dirt, leaves, and I don't know how old straw—it wasn't fresh. It also held a musty, moldy smell; a scent I knew very well that usually came with all abandoned structures. With a heavy sigh, I pushed further in, slowly approaching the tack room. I bit back a flood of emotions, all of which were my own. The tack room still had bridles, saddles, mildewed horse blanket as a couple of mice scurried out. I jumped back, grimacing at them. "Nasty…" I muttered, slowly stepping into the room. With my flashlight, I glanced over each piece of tack—each withholding a memory of when my family was alive—feeling my eyes burn with tears.

I reached out to pull a bridle towards me…_Dunn Got It Made_. I bowed my head, closing my eyes as I remembered my former horse. He was handsome when he was alive—soft pink nose, a serious _Snickers_ addiction, a beautiful sorrel color.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thirteen Years Ago<strong>_

_It had been a few days since I had even seen my horse, a beautiful sorrel Quarter horse by the name of Dunn Got It Made or as I called him, Dunn. That familiar velvety soft, pink nose poked out of his stall as I walked up to him with a soft smile, "Hey buddy, it's been a while hasn't it?"_

_Dunn's big brown eyes stared back at me, pawing at the stall door. I couldn't help but laugh, "Hold on, big guy, I gotta get the kids out." I dug into my jean short's pocket and pulled out a half-eaten Snickers bar, putting my hand through the bars of the stall. Dunn moved over to where my hand was at, picking up the candy bar and chewed. I patted his muzzle before meeting Michael at his horse's stall._

* * *

><p>Gazing up to the ceiling to stave off my tears, I pulled out my pocket knife, cutting the aged brass nametag off and moved to the other three: <em>Oreo, Snickerdoodle, <em>and _Dot._ I felt like it was my job to get them. I turned to leave the room, seeing something catch my eye.

Kneeling, I reached out to the wall, smiling to myself when I saw three initials carved: _A.C., M.C., S.C,_ _D.W.,_ and _S.W._ We were a family. We had made a vow to keep each other safe—keep _our_ family safe. Dean was the one who had coaxed us out of the house. He was ten, I was nine, Sammy was six, the twins were five, and Alyssa had turned one. I reached into my inner coat pocket for my cellphone, flipped it open, and with the flashlight helping, I took a picture of our initials. I _needed_ to remember this. Everything here. The way the ground felt under my feet, the way the air smelled. I had to.

Back outside, I trailed along the old gravel path. It was washed out and rutted from years of neglect, but needless to say, it brought me to where I was going. Towering above me was the ruins of my old home like some kind of monolith, an atonement for my sins. I couldn't hardly breathe the longer I looked at it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thirteen Years Ago<strong>_

_"Go to the stables, and I'll handle all of the horses. Get to the house." I said loud enough for them to hear. With unspoken nods, we all made it back to the stable double time. I hopped down, going to Alyssa, then to Mikey, and finally to Shelby._

_Getting ready to open her mouth, I gave her a dark look, "Don't say a word, I mean it Shelby. Get to the house and start pouring salt at every door and window seal, Alyssa, Mikey, you do the same."_

_I took off all the saddles, and bridles to the horses and showed them back into their stalls. Patting each one on the rump, I shut the stable doors behind me pulling out my handgun. The feeling worsened by the minute as I slowly made my way around the house, checking its perimeter. With a shaky breath, my hands mimicked the action as well. Over the course of my perimeter check, my heart rate shot up. Seeing that it was all clear, I made my way back to the front of the house. The sky, by this time had turned into an ominous dark gray, lightning streaking every now and then in the distance._

_Opening the door, I stepped over the line of well-placed salt. My eyes flickered to each window and door, seeing lines of salt where they needed to be. That feeling ebbed away knowing that my siblings had done something right, and for that, I was relieved. Getting to the living room, I found the twins and Alyssa sitting on the couch, their backs turned to me. I blew out a sigh._

_"You guys did well," I said, "I'm going to call Mom and Dad, see how long it's going to be when they get here."_

* * *

><p>I shook my head to pull me out of the past. I was getting angry at myself, ashamed that I hadn't done a thing to help them. Like it was some animate object that could speak and feel, I crouched picking up a fistful of rocks; big or small as I whizzed them all at the scorched house. I kept picking them up and throwing until I stumbled and fell, hissing in a breath when a piece of rock had lodged itself in my palm, "God <em>damn it<em>!" I shrieked out in anger, hearing it echo across the desolate property of my former parents. There was a crack of thunder rumbling off somewhere.

_Hold on. Be strong. Remember what you're fighting for…_My father's voice rumbled in the back of my mind. I was six. It was my first time holding a bow, much less shooting one. He had made an outline of several monsters—painstakingly realistic ones. After practicing for almost two hours a day, I had become quite the shot.

It didn't matter now. All that mattered was the fact that I was throwing a fit in the dirt and gravel, bleeding. I guess you could say that I had long since went into a grief induced rage, bypassing it into a hysterical fit. I grabbed another handful of gravel, slinging it to the house before I rested my head on my knees momentarily, chest heaving.

My dad's voice seemed to have echoed from within: _Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'? How's about cooking somethin' up with me?_ _Hey, sweet baby - don't you think maybe, We can find us a brand new recipe?_

I blew out shaky breath in response, "_I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill, And I know a spot right over the hill, There's soda pop and the dancing's free, So if you wanna have fun, come along with… me._" My hands clenched into fists as a sob tore through my body. I didn't stop, I _couldn't. _

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." I repeated the mantra until my face was red, and a lone raindrop hitting my face. I looked up at the sky, seeing the swirling, black rainclouds that threatened to spill. "Dad…it's all my fault. Everythin's my fault." Another raindrop fell, then another, and then another until it was coming down in a steady downpour. I didn't budge, "I shoulda died…I shoulda never come back. John shoulda lived—"I shook my head, "He should be here right now with Sam and Dean and not me, Dad." I felt so lost, "What am I supposed to do…?"

There was another crack of thunder, "_What am I s'posed to do_?!" I yelled out, feeling confident I had returned the ferocity. Lightning flashed across the sky, shortly followed by thunder, "I'm just a failure…I failed you and Mom..." My chest heaved a couple of times as I fought to catch my breath, "I failed Mikey, Shelby, and Alyssa…" I looked around me, torn, "And I failed John…so tell me what I'm supposed to do. _Please_."

_Hold on. Be strong. Remember what you're fighting for…_

There was a rumbling sound from behind me, then a dull bang and shouts that consisted of, "Abs!" and "Abigail!" alerted me that it was Dean. My hair and clothes where soaked, clinging to me like cold saran-wrap. I didn't bother to move. Not even when he had sprinted over to me—unexplainable worry surging from him—I kept sobbing. However, a pair of arms gathered me as the scent of leather, cologne, and motor oil elated my senses and a pair of impeccable green eyes met mine, "Jesus Christ, Abs." He murmured capturing my face in between his calloused hands, "What the hell happened?"

"It's my fault…" I sobbed out. Dean wiped my face, only for the rain to coat it in a thin sheen. His eyes swept my face and body in search of injuries, "It's all my fault."

Dean settled beside me with a grunt, pulling me against him until I was very well in his lap, "No, it's not." He murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. I shook my head at him.

"It is…"

"Abs, what happened with your family isn't your fault." His arms tightened around me, burying his face into my neck, "None of this is your fault…"

"They're all dead because of me…_everyone_." I tried to pull away from him, only to be dissuaded by his grip, "There ain't a damned thing you can tell me otherwise." I was waiting for him to snap at me, get angry. It never came. I didn't sense it from him, nor did he get frustrated like he did when I was being inconsolably ignorant. Instead, he was patient, keeping me close and tight in his arms; one hand had begun to rub my back, "What am I s'posed to do?" I muttered, "I failed my parents, my sisters and brother, _Dad_…" I felt Dean's body stiffen, "…I failed you and Sammy and Megan."

Dean rested his chin on my head for a moment in thought. I couldn't see his face. I sensed his hurt and heartbreak squeeze my chest, adding to mine, "No you haven't." He murmured, "You didn't fail any of us…especially Megan." There was a slight hitch in his voice at the mention of our daughter.

"Yes I did." I said harshly from against his chest, only to have him plant a gentle kiss to the side of my head and squeeze me slightly. He wasn't here to belittle me. Rather, he was here to comfort, to worry and be concerned like he had so badly wanted, "Why don't you just go back to Charlie's and leave me alone?"

Dean shook his head, "I can't do that."

"You have before."

Dean's head tilted in consideration, "True, but I promised that I'd come back with you."

"Well, I'm not leavin' with you." I said haughtily, feeling a rise of frustration. There was a loud clap of thunder, causing me to jump from the intensity of it. Dean didn't miss a beat. He only held me tighter, a chuckle catching at the back of his throat.

"Let's get in the car," He suggested, "We're soaked."

"Let's not and say we did." I retorted stubbornly, hearing him blow out a loud breath.

"Quit being ignorant or I swear I'll pack you to Baby myself," He stated, getting impatient. I managed to wriggle away from him, getting to my feet to see him looking up at me with an irritated expression melded across his face. It was true, he was soaked. His hair wasn't its usual scruffy style, and he hadn't shaved in a few days. I didn't really take notice of that until now. He rose to his feet with a grunt, casting a glance to the ruins of my old home. Dean stared at it for a long moment before he focused back on me, the irritated look had softened as he motioned to it, "Thought you said you'd never come back."

"You went back to yours…"

He glanced to the sky when another clap of thunder boomed. It was louder, obviously getting closer, "But there's nothing left here."

My eyes fell to the ground, "I know…" I threw a look over my shoulder to the stables again. It wasn't too far of a trudge in the rain, so I turned, ignoring the confused look I received from Dean.

"Where are you going?" He questioned. His mind was set on the safety of the Impala.

I shrugged, "Just walkin'…" He groaned, twisting to look back to his car.

"You know the Impala's right there…right?" He questioned.

I nodded, not looking back, "I know…" The sound of the gravels crunching under his boots followed behind me as I approached the sliding doors of the stables. Wordlessly, I slid them open, not bothering to close them and found two old stools, setting them near the entrance but with some considerable distance between them. Dean saw this and frowned, slightly upset that I was still being 'this way' as he would put it, should he voice his opinion.

He noticed something, blood on my hand to be exact, "What happened?" he asked. I looked down, remembering that I had a piece of gravel in my hand.

"Doesn't matter…" I muttered.

"You fell." Dean stated.

I shrugged at him, "I'll get it out later." I sat down on the stool, resting my elbows on my knees, then my chin on my knuckles only for Dean to stand in front of me and crouch, pulling my wrist forcibly, but gently away to inspect the damage I did to myself. I sighed heavily at his need to check on every little thing, "Dean—"

"I'm getting it out, Abs." He deadpanned, "It's gotta hurt."

"I barely feel it." It was the truth. I had taken Vicodin shortly before I made my trek from the pond to the stables the first time to ease off the pain in my thigh.

Hazel orbs held mine for a beat, "Liar." I opened my mouth to protest, only to be dissuaded by the look his eyes held. Dean held my hand in his tenderly, taking note of every little scratch and scrape it contained as he ran his thumb across it. A twinge of pain caused me to wince, "You wanna know why I say that?"

"Enlighten me," I mused in a dry tone.

"I know all your looks." My stomach knotted up, feeling as if a million or so butterflies were fluttering around in there. Relenting, I nodded at him as an 'okay' for him to take the piece of rock out. It took a few seconds to do it, and I felt a sense of relief when it left my palm. Dean patted the side of my leg with a smile, "We'll head back to the Impala after this rain quits and get your hands cleaned up, then you'll be good as new."

I nodded, unsure of what to say to him, but when I opened my mouth to even say 'Thank you', Dean passed the stool assigned to him to explore the old stables. From behind me, Dean looked around, emitting a low whistle, "It's been a while since I've been in here." He commented.

I looked over my shoulder to find Dean digging in his pockets for a flashlight only for me to pull mine out and toss it to him. "Thanks…" I nodded, watching him inspect every inch of the place. He sidestepped the rain pouring in from the hole in the roof, eyes flitting up to it as he did so, and paused at the tack room door, "I take it you've already been here?" I hummed in response as he stepped in, the beam of light flashing out of the room occasionally, then he popped his head out, urging me to come in with him.

"I've already been…" I told him.

"Come on, quit being a stickler." He teased, his eyes glittering in a boyish fashion. Despite the fact that I was trying so hard to keep a safe distance away from him…it was beginning to be difficult. Reconciling, I stood just outside the door, watching him in silence as he kneeled, smiling in a reminiscing manner. Underneath that smile, I felt his pain and remorse, "You remember when we did that?" he asked, looking up to me.

"The carvings?" I asked. He nodded, those eyes glittering in the illumination, "Of course, you were ten and I was nine."

His smile widened till the corners of his eyes crinkled, "I can't believe it's still here."

"If it's built by a Colt, it's built to last." I mused with a chuckle from Dean in response. I slowly stepped into the room and crouched looking at the initials carved into the wall—the order to be exact. It started with the oldest being Dean and I, we were side by side at the top. Then Sam's, Mikey, and Shelby's below ours, and at the main bottom, I had carved Alyssa's since she was too small. Dean started to check his pockets, earning a curious look from me as he pulled out a pocket knife. I fully turned my head, watching as he flipped the blade out and carved _M.W._ after his before carving a plus between mine and his, then an equal sign between his and _M.W._ My breath caught in my throat when I realized that he had put Megan's initials among the wall.

We sat staring at the initials—both old and new—in silence. "I know this isn't going to make things alright with us, Abs…but," He said in a light tone, breaking the silence, he trailed off, shaking his head against whatever he was going to say. Outside, it was now a gulley washer, big fat drops hitting the roof with torrential force. Dean glanced out of the door with his lips in a thin line, "And it looks like we're not getting out of here any time soon, so…" He closed the pocket knife, putting it back in his pocket before he pulled out his cellphone and took a picture of the wall. I smiled lightly at that, then he pocketed his phone as if he didn't do anything prior, "Might as well wait."

Straightening back up, we both became aware of how close we were. I found myself staring at Dean a little longer than what I was intending and met the mutual look from him in turn. Dean reached out, slowly tucking a thick strand of hair that matted together behind my ear, his fingertips lightly hovered over my skin as he watched himself move his hand down until he caressed my cheek. I would catch his eyes drop down to my lips every so often before licking his bottom lip pensively.

_I need to move away…_I thought.

Then I realized Dean was unsure of what he should do, yet he was Dean Winchester. He was never supposed to be unsure of anything he did. It was always, shoot first-ask questions later. Like his final decision was made, Dean tipped his head until his lips were barely caressing mine. It was a tentative gesture on his part, something that couples on the first date would do. however, when I solidified the kiss by responding in the same fashion, he pressed against me harder—sensing that little jolt of surprise from him—and forcefully filled my mouth with his tongue.

_I should push him away._ I thought ruefully. _I didn't need to be doing this_. I could see my consciousness now, staring me down in disapproval like some old librarian as I lifted my hands to curve them over his shoulders. _I need to push him away, not pull him closer_.

Truth is, I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and like a dying man in a desert coming across an oasis, Dean wasted no time on reacquainting himself with my lips and mouth.

A flash of heat swept across me like a torrential inferno when he swept his tongue over mine. His mouth was strong and fierce on mine, always searching for some form of a response that I was all-too eager to give in return. His arms loosened around me, stroking his hands down my body until his fingers had curled under my ass—then lifted me up. I let out a startled gasp from the move, not because I didn't know how strong he was, _I did_, but I wasn't exactly expecting the fact that my entire body was buzzing to life like a shockwave of electricity coursed through me.

I sensed a flurry of heat spill over me again, like my gasp had tugged at something within Dean—something primal—as he kissed me deeply. It was absolutely breathtaking as he took two steps and pinned me against the doorframe of the tack room with his body, securely locking me in place with his arms. From what I felt and _sensed_, the word inferno was barely beginning to scratch the surface. He pulled his mouth away from mine, beginning to kiss his way down my neck.

A soft, sigh passed through my lips at the foreignness of his touch and the intensity of his kisses. When he made it to where my neck curved into my shoulder, he hesitated, and as gently as he could, his teeth captured a tiny bit of the sensitive skin in that area, nipping it. My chest pushed out against his in an arch as his hands came to my waist, shoving up the hem of shirt so that he could feel my skin. He let out a low sound, like a growl almost.

I felt it reverberate deep within my chest, just like I felt the intensity of how raw Dean's need was. Then a thought crossed my mind, _the absence of clothes_. It was beginning to be a problem, and I needed to feel my skin against his in a feverish way. I pushed my hands underneath his jacket, making a move to simply push it off of him, but the more we were engrossed in each other, the more I was beginning to realize that my senses were being overrun with Dean's.

_Freak_.

I retracted my hands quickly from his shoulders, breathing hard as I did so, "I can't—Dean, stop." He pulled back in the same fashion, more or less startled and confused at the urgency in my voice.

"What is it?" His eyes were a molten hazel color that seemed to have honey mixed in. I swallowed the lump in my throat, "Abs, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, "Let me down." Dean hesitated, still not understanding, then slowly let me plant my feet firmly on the ground although we retained our closeness. I shook my head, distressed. "I can't—we can't…"

"What? Abs, tell me…" I bit my lip at the confusion in his voice, "We can't what? Do this?" I knew he meant kissing and touching and whatever, so I nodded, shame-faced. Dean blinked at me, the gears in his head working overtime to compensate what was going on. There was a surge of disbelief running from him, a painful one. I closed my eyes to prevent myself from looking at him, "If you're still pissed at how we've been this past week, then I understand. I'm not even mad about it anymore. I got the point across. I'm a dick, you had a good reason behind what you did. You got me to talk."

I shook my head slowly, "It's not that, Dean."

"Then what is it?" he asked, impatient, "Tell me."

_The fact that I have a new ability and known about it for quite some time, and relapsed? I'll jump right on that_. I shook my head, "You won't understand."

Dean stared at me, mouth agape slightly, "Wait...what? _I _won't understand?" He scoffed, "What is this? Opposite day or something? Abs, I'm the most understanding person you know."

I snorted, "Actually, Sam is, but he's not here." Dean looked taken aback at my comment, almost seeming like he'd been slapped. He took a step away from me, eyes narrowing.

"It's always Sam." He growled.

"Yeah, it's _always Sam_, because he knows me better than you ever cared to!" I snapped.

"Knows you better than _me_?" He bit out a harsh laugh, "Yeah, he _knows_ you so well that he's got a kid with you. Been with you for nearly eight _fucking_ years, and has saved _your ass_ on several occasions. Yeah, Sam _sure does_ know you better than me." I glared at him, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Pacing in the tack room, Dean tore down the old, weathered racks, sending them crashing to the ground as he turned back to me, eyes glinting dangerously, "You know what? If you want Sam so bad, _since he knows you better than me_, then go to him! I bet he'd just _ooze_ with joy."

"Maybe I fuckin' will! Give our kid a reason to call him daddy." I snapped, feeling a stab to the heart.

Dean's face smoothed out into an eerily calm expression that hid a look of sheer rage, "Go to hell." He growled out.

"I'll bring you down with me…" I said coolly, turning on my heels to leave. It was still pouring the rain when I emerged from the stables, getting soaked in the matter of seconds as I walked past the charred ruins of my home and the Impala. There was a series of loud crashes from the stables indicating that Dean was destroying everything around him in his rage induced fit. I continued on until I made it to the end of the long drive, coming onto the long stretch of road. I started in the direction of Charlie's, making it a good mile or so until the loud roar of the Impala was heard at a distance.

I stared ahead, dead set on walking back to Charlie's myself, but when the sleek black bonnet of the Impala sidled up beside me, I merely threw it a glance, "Get in the car."

"I don't think so," I said in a defiant manner, not looking at Dean.

"Get in the damn car, Abigail." Dean snarled out. I ignored him, hearing the tires screech at Dean suddenly hitting the breaks. I walked ahead until the car door opened, followed by a series of boots hitting the pavement. He had caught up to me in to no time, gripping my elbow tightly and jerked me to face him, "Cut the shit and get in the damn car!"

I shook my head at him, "I'll be damned." I jerked my arm out his grip, and turned to start walking. Dean cursed loudly, then grabbed my arm again before he twisted me around and slung me over his shoulder, "What the fuck?!" I screeched out, "Let me the fuck go!" He ignored my angry protests as well as me pummeling my fists into his back, and practically tossed me into the front seat of the Impala before he got in the driver's side, slamming it shut.

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><p>Making it back to Charlie and Kara's, I got out as soon as he hit the brakes. Dean got out soon after, rounding the front of the car to cut me off, "What the hell is your problem?"<p>

"You! You're my problem! You're all of my problems!" I exclaimed, trying to sidestep him, alas, he was having none of it.

"Then what's the point of us even being together anymore? Cause quite frankly, I'm sick of your shit!" He blurted out, then instantly regretted it. I stared at him for a beat, stunned at what he had said. His eyes widened, horrified at what he just told me, taking a step towards me with the intent on apologizing, "Abs, I—"

"No, you're right…what's the point?" I deadpanned, "There's obviously nothing here."

"Abs, don't—" Dean took another step toward me and I took a step back just as Sam, Charlie, and Kara came out of the house. _Great, an audience._ "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"No, no. You're right…" I worked my jaw oddly, then I felt my lips curl into a cynical smile, "We're bad for each other; like fire and gasoline." Dean's face paled, looking so distraught at what this had become, "You made your bed, Dean Winchester—lay in it." I passed him up, by passing our onlookers as I climbed the stairs to fetch my bag. Sam was right behind me.

"Abs, what's going on?" He asked.

I glared at him, "Don't."

My brother paused, taken aback at the tone of my voice, "What'd Dean do?" He followed me into Dean and I's room where he stood, watching me shove clothes into my bag with wide eyes, "Are we leaving?"

"No, just me." I replied curtly.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yeah, Sam. I am." I paused, looking at him with my lips firmly set into a thin line, "Dean and I…we're not together anymore."

Sam's face knitted into a look of disbelief "What?"

"Yeah…so, I'm leavin'. Don't come lookin' for me—either of you." Sam swallowed down a lump, blinking furiously. He was deeply upset, "Don't ask me what happened…just…" Sam stared at me with those big eyes of his, "Forget about me, a'ight?"

"What about Megan?" he asked softly.

I pressed my lips together, upset about the outcome of this when it came to my daughter, "You'll know when I've been there. I'll see if we can figure some kind of visitation thing. Ashley will call and give ya'll the details." Sam nodded, then as I zipped up the bag, I sighed, "I'm sorry, Sam—"

He stared at me with tears in his eyes, "Sammy."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Sammy, not Sam." I stared at him in silence, touched that he still wanted me to call him that. I hugged him tightly, earning a heartfelt embrace in return, then felt his body quiver trying to stifle off crying, "Am I gonna see you again?"

My heartstrings tugged at his question, "I don't know, Sammy…"

"You don't gotta do this, Abigail." Sam said hoarsely, "You don't gotta leave. I-I mean, c'mon," He pulled back to look at me through watery eyes, "You're my Psychic Twin." The corner of his lips quivered as he forced a smile.

"I know we are," I told him.

"What about this whole powers and abilities? What if I end up having another premonition?" He asked, suddenly becoming anxious, "Abigail, if you leave…what am I gonna do?"

"You have Dean. He's your brother." I said gently.

"He doesn't understand this like you do, though. You don't see me as some freak." Sam argued, trying to find ways to keep me here.

"Sam…if you have a premonition, anythin' of the sorts—then call me. Not Dean, you. Solely you." I glanced to the clock on the wall, and I felt as if time was running out for me, "I love you, Sammy. Don't forget that okay?" Sam's arms tightened around me once again, pressing his lips against the side of my head firmly.

"Okay…" he breathed out, "Okay…" We stepped back, and I almost broke down crying. Sam's puppy dog eyes were in full effect, and crying. I reached up, smiling at him softly, and wiped them away like I would do on occasions. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hung his head, "I'm gonna miss you."

"Me too. Don't fight with Dean…he doesn't need it." I told him gently, "He's got enough on his plate." Sam furrowed his brows, and as bad as he wanted to retaliate, he didn't, "Be good, for me." I stepped past him, to meet Kara and Charlie in the hall. They looked bewildered, though they heard Sam and I's conversation. I shook my head at them, "I'll call you in a couple of days. I promise." Kara nodded, tearfully. "Charlie, don't take this out on Dean…it's not his fault. None of it. It's me. I just need more time."

Charlie stared at me with doubt in his eyes, "I know you do, Abby-girl, and you're just like your daddy and a spittin' image of your momma. Spittin' fire and startin' fights in an empty room." He looked down at his hand for a moment, making me glance to it and back to his face, "I've been waitin' for this for a long time. Couldn't really pick a good time to give this to you, but now's better than never."

"What?" Charlie extended his hand, revealing a set of keys. Dropping them in mine, I stared at them. They were vaguely familiar, and when it hit me, I teared up, "This is…?"

"Yeah, your daddy's car. Got 'er fixed up and runnin' like a dream." He said with a small smile, "Don't wreck 'er or anythin' and I won't tear into Winchester, much as it sounds like a good idea. You got my word." I nodded, forcing a smile at him.

"I'm sorry about this guys…" I started. Kara simply shook her head, smiling sadly.

"Don't be. Just call us when you can." Kara said, "Be careful, and we love you."

"You too." I muttered, hefting my duffle over my shoulder. Charlie followed me down the stairs where Dean was sitting in the living room, hands clasped and leaned over with his head bowed. He lifted his head a hair to watch me walk by. I paused, merely throwing a glance at him, "Dean…lose my number. Like, I told Sam. Don't come lookin' for me. Ashley'll call you when I have somethin' figured out about visitations with Megan."

Dean's face crumpled, unable to speak as I walked out the door with Charlie beside me. Outside, Charlie opened up the garage to reveal my dad's pristine cherry red 1969 Dodge Charger R/T 500—his baby. Under the circumstances, I couldn't stand and gawk and thank my uncle for this like I wanted to. All I could do was hug him quickly and get into the driver's seat where I took a moment to relish in my father's memory.

Starting the engine, it roared to like an ancient volcano erupting with life as I pulled out, passing the Impala, Kara, Sam, and Dean. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do, but Bobby's wasn't an option right now, nor was the Roadhouse. It was just me against the world. A two hours later and a hundred miles out, I stopped along the interstate heading towards South Dakota and I started to cry. I cried until it became hysterical sobs that made my chest hurt and throat sore with every breath, leaning forward against the steering wheel of my car to allow the weight of the world to crash upon me. With closed eyes, Sam and Dean's despondent appearances haunted me.

It was better off that way. It had to be.

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><p><strong>Okay, so I decided to write out an original chapter that took me forever and a day to finish! I hope this was okay! *runs and hides and peeks out from corner* I promise ya'll I'll have out Simon Says to make up for the feels in this chapter! Like I said earlier, it's gotta get bad before it can get better! <strong>

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><p><strong>I'd love to thank <em>Ladysunshine6<em> for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things-Charlie and Dean's conversation. ****I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**Also, in case ya'll didn't see in the previous chapter, I made a Tumblr for this series! So, if ya'll have a Tumblr account, go check it out and feel free to follow me! (:**

**Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <em>Broken Frame<em> by Alex & Sierra. Ya'll gotta check it out, it's a beautiful song!**

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><p><strong><span>angelicedg<span>- Shhh! We don't want to spoil things, but this 'special guest' will make quite a few appearances as we go! haha. Trust me, things will get better in Simon Says. That I can promise. c:**

**Guest- Thank you! I'm glad you do and welcome!**

**giddyfan- Indeed so with the Winchester's being Winchester's, but there had been _loads_ of hints on the angels throughout _Bad Company_. haha. (;**

**grapejuice101- Haha. Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Simon Says will be a big sigh of relief for everyone! I promise! **

**ebonywarrior85- Awe thank you! It means a lot! Hopefully ya'll aren't mad at me for this chapter! Yeah, I've watched bits and pieces of it, and the CGI is too much for me. haha. But I _loved_ Amber Heard in it-Piper essentially inspired me to create Abigail.**

**zikashigaku- Oh trust me, they irritate me and I'm the writer! haha. Like I told everyone, Simon Says will make up for it! **

**SkyQueen1111- Thank you so much for checking it out! I know Travis Fimmel is like, around the same age as Jensen Ackles and whatnot, but in Vikings he seems so much older! He just seemed like a good fit for Charlie since he's based off of a character Fimmel plays in Baytown Outlaws (if you haven't watched it, do so! It's great!) And I listened to that song...I love it! It definitely speaks volumes about their strength, so thank you for suggesting it! Love you too! c:**

**Mia (guest)- Thank you so much for reviewing! Yes, she's definitely heading down that route, especially now since everything in this chapter happened. Don't worry though, it'll get better. (:**


	9. Simon Said

_I'm gonna find me _

_A hole in the wall_

_I'm gonna crawl inside and die_

_'Cause my lady, now_

_A mean ol' woman, Lord_

_Never told me goodbye_

_Can't you see, oh, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

_Can't you see, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

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><p><em><strong>One Week Later<strong>_

_**Pierre Part, Louisiana—Day**_

Garth was something else, though. My overall analysis of this guy wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. He was dolt and I wasn't surprised he hadn't been killed yet due to several mistakes we've already encountered so far. Other than several rookie mistakes, he was a sweetheart; a complete dumbass at times, but nonetheless, a sweetheart. Had a big addiction to sweet things, got drunk _super_ easy…and he liked hugs.

With a sigh, I took a sip of coffee before pulling out a shrimp Po'Boy from a bag beside me. It smelled downright sinful, and they were worth the ten bucks. I held the sandwich away from my mouth just a hair, "Garth, how in the name of all that is holy, are you lost?" I bit out, sitting in the front seat of my car.

"_Well, you know how windy these roads are, Abby-girl_." Came his lighthearted reply. I ignored the usage of one of my prohibited nicknames, "_The tip we got said to come down this road about ten miles…These werewolves_—"

"_Loup-garou_, Garth." I corrected lying the Po'Boy down in my lap, "Like a werewolf, but not one. They're closer to a shapeshifter."

"_Right, right. Of course_," Garth replied. I reached over to pick up my cup of coffee and took a sip, "_These_ _Loup-garou_'_s are tricky little things_…_you seem know a lot about different kind of lore._"

"Learned from some of the best." I mused, peeling out a piece of onion and chewed on it thoughtfully before swallowing it down with the last bit of coffee.

"_So, what exactly do they derive from? Lore wise._" He asked.

I furrowed my brows in agitation, "Garth, I thought you knew about _Loup-garou_'s."

"_I said I knew _some_ about them_."

I groaned inwardly leaning forward so that I could wrap my arm around the back of the steering wheel, "How are you alive, Garth? Seriously." I shook my head at him even though he couldn't see me, "_Loup-garou_ is simply a subspecies of werewolves; they're closer to shapeshifters really. The only thing you need to know about 'em is that silver kills 'em—bullets, necklace, bracelet—whatever your heart desires to gank 'em." I paused for a moment, "You did say this was a _loup-garou_ right?"

"_Right_," Garth replied, "_All the vic's died of loss of blood and their throats were torn out_—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, _blood loss_ and their throats were ripped out?" I cut in. I sat back in my seat, bringing my hand to my forehead, "Dear lord, Garth." I sighed. Werewolves or _loup-garou_ weren't making sense. The lunar cycle wasn't right meaning there wasn't a werewolf problem. If that was the case, then the victim's would be missing their hearts—essentially that's their favorite treat. "That kind of shit is associated with Vamps, Garth."

"_What do you want me to do then?_" He asked, voice getting a little high in apprehension.

"Just sit tight." I said firmly, "I'm headin' down to the motel and gettin' some more things from my room, if this _is_ vamp_,_ then we need to be careful." I scrubbed at my face in exhaustion, "In fact, find you a place to park until I can meet up with you. I'll bring an extra machete."

"_Gotcha._" He said, "_And, Abby?"_

"Yeah." I deadpanned, scrubbing my face in exhaustion.

"_I'm sorry._"

I paused my hand down on my mouth, knitting my brows in confusion, "About what?" I asked, pulling my hand away.

A pause. "_Whatever you're running from, I'm sorry it happened to you. If it helps, I think you're a good person and one of the nicest people I know."_ I stared at the building in front of me, silent, "_You know, if you ever want to talk about it…I'm always here._" I bit my lip, feeling that sharp stab in my chest.

"I know…Just give me thirty minutes to an hour." I said, then hung up my phone. Inhaling, I shook my head slowly, "I'm sorry about it too, Garth. You just don't know." Applying my foot on the clutch, I started the engine before dropping it into first gear. Pulling out, I shifted, going into second, then third as I came onto the main street. It didn't take but a few minutes to get back to the motel I was staying at—_Bayou Belle Inn_. I took a few minutes to look over into my seat at the bag of food I had. I hadn't eaten (or slept) in a day or so due to researching for a monster that we weren't even hunting for.

Cutting the engine, I shook my head once again, "Rookies…" I muttered, reaching over to pick up my sandwich, and took a bite winding up with grease running down my chin, "Shit." I muttered, chewing the still-hot sandwich as I fumbled around in the bag for a napkin. There was none, "Really?" Swallowing, I sighed out again, wiping the grease off my chin and wiped my hand down on my jeans as a makeshift napkin, "My friggin' luck."

I managed to scarf down the Po'Boy without as much as a second to savor its taste. Crumpling up the paper bag, I swept up the crumbs, placing them into the plastic bag I had for garbage. Taking it and my empty coffee cup, I got out of my car, tossing the trash into a nearby garbage can as I crossed the parking lot to my motel room. I dug in my pockets for the key, only to falter at the door, seeing that it was open slightly. I sensed someone was in there patiently waiting. Slowly, I reached behind me to draw my gun out before pushing the door open. I warily entered, seeing that one of the far table lamps were turned on.

I licked my bottom lip, sweeping the tip of my tongue over it before capturing it between my teeth for a second. Becoming aware of everything around me, I looked over to my bed, frozen in my tracks. My heart clenched painfully upon meeting a pair of impeccable hazel eyes staring back at me, and there sitting at the edge of my bed was Dean.

"Dean?" He was hunched over with hands clasped under his chin; in all honesty, he looked a mess. His usual clean-shaven face was covered in twice the stubble since the last time I had saw him, his hair was disheveled, and he looked like he had been void of sleep. Upon hearing his name coming off my lips, a wave of guilt and pain washed over me like a tsunami.

"Hey, Abs." His voice was light as he tested out my nickname. Rising to his feet, he ran his hands down the leg of his jeans, "Just thought I'd drop by; see how you were doing. We were passing through." He tried to sound casual, as if my absence hadn't been affecting him. The corners of his mouth tipped up into his trademark half-smile.

I folded my arm across my chest, narrowing my eyes at him, "What the hell are you doin' here, Dean? I thought—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," He cut in, "Don't come lookin' for you. Lose your number." I looked around the room quickly, then to the door, "Sam's not here." Dean answered, causing me to look back to him, "He thinks I'm at some strip-club." He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, moving around the room, "Nice room, by the way, like what you've done with the place." I arched a brow at him, taking note of all the research tacked up on the walls.

I rolled my eyes at him, licking my bottom lip once again. "Dean… why are you here?" My voice had steeled over, "In this town, to be more precise." I shook my head trying to wrap this around it, "I mean, one doesn't simply _pass through_ Pierre Part, Louisana."

Halting at my open duffel, he reached out to pick up a picture I kept. It was in a frame that was beginning to pull apart in one of the corners and the glass split down the middle, coincidentally, between us. He stared at it for a long time, pain evident in his eyes, "I came to talk." He admitted, receiving a condescending scoff from me as he set the frame back down.

"That ship had long since sailed." I deadpanned, "If you don't mind, show yourself out the door. I'm busy."

"A nest of vamps just up the road thirty minutes or so—or the _loup-garou_'s the guy you're with thought?" He questioned, "Kid wouldn't know how to drive stick up a frog's ass if he tried. I'm surprised he's even alive, judging by how he's hunting—"

I furrowed my brows at him, "Wait…you're the one who tipped Garth off? You-you knew where I've been?" Dean wordlessly nodded his head in response. I shook my head, rubbing my face roughly at the realization, "Son of a bitch…"

"You should really get rid of your phone if you don't want to be found next time." He suggested. I threw him a glare, earning a shrug from him in response. "Might as well sit down and talk, we've got time."

"I'd rather stand, _thanks_." Dean's hand rose in surrender, knowing not to push himself. "What do you want to talk about?" He moved across the room over to the mini refrigerator where he pulled out two beers, closing the door to the fridge with his boot as he opened the bottles with ease.

"The guy you're with."

"Garth, yeah. What about 'im?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second, "You're not-?"

I scrunched my face at him, "Oh, God, no. Strictly business. Garth's a sweetheart, but no." I shook my head at him, not quite believing that I was even having this conversation, "Is this what you're wantin' to talk about?" I asked, incredulously.

Dean shook his head, "No…I just—you know." His shoulders hefted into a shrug, "I, uh, wanted to talk about us." He replied, offering one of the beers he had in his hands. I stared at it like he had poisoned it, "Jesus, Abs. You should know me better than that." I pressed my lips together at him taking the one he had in his hand, "Abs, we're a family. We have a daughter together."

I shook my head slowly, "Dean…there is no _us_. Dad was right—"

"I don't give a damn what Dad said, alright? He's gone, it doesn't matter what he's said." Dean said curtly, brushing past me to sit back down on the bed. I shut my eyes when I caught a whiff of his old cologne as it flooded my senses, memories of that scent flooding back in relentlessly, "Abs, I want us to be a family again. We deserve this; _Megan_ deserves it."

I ran my finger around the opening of the bottle, "I know she does, Dean…but," I averted my eyes to the ground, "You and I don't deserve to be miserable, and that's what we are; _miserable_."

Dean shook his head slowly, "I can make it up to you, Abs. I swear I can. We can't be over—not like this. We've put too much time, too much blood and sweat to just—roll over and die and give up."

"We were over the day Dad died—"

"No." He said firmly, cutting me off, "Don't you say that." Dean's lips quivered as his brows drew together. Tears were glistening in his eyes, "Don't you dare say that."

"You were the one who started to push me away." I pointed out, lifting my hands up in my defense, "_You_ didn't want to talk…didn't want to tell me a damn thing about what happened." I tapped my chest roughly, tears threatening to well up in my eyes, "Dean, I needed you to talk to me."

Dean cast his eyes to the carpet between his boots, "I _know_ I'm the one that did that. Abigail, I made a bad call, alright?" He confessed, looking back up to me with pleading eyes, "I'm was a jackass. I fucked up; that's what I do!"

"It's better off this way, Dean." I said softly, "We can't be hunters and do our job right without worryin' about each other—it's how we end up six feet under, and we can't chance that."

"So what? We just go on and act like we never spent the better half of seven or eight years together?"

I closed my eyes, "Yeah." It was dead silent. Dean inhaled deeply a few times through his nose. He was hurting tremendously, so was I.

"What about Megan?" He finally managed to whisper.

I opened my eyes, lashes becoming matted together with tears as I met with his imploring gaze, "We do what's best for her. We stay in contact—"

"Thought you said for me to lose your number?" I narrowed my eyes at him, becoming overly exhausted.

"I know what I said." I replied, "We stay in contact, then whenever it conveniences you to see her. Let me know." Dean's face skewed in a look of repudiation.

"Convenience?" He asked, "_Convenience?_" then he scoffed, "You think I _want_ to be away from you and our daughter? I don't want weekends or summers or part of the damn time, Abigail—" I yawned deeply, not hearing half of what he said, shaking my head slowly. Everything about me started to feel sluggish.

"Why are you jealous of Sam?" I asked suddenly.

Dean held his beer up to his lips, pausing at my question, "What?"

"Why are you jealous of Sam?"

I watched his lips curl into a cynical smile, "I'm not jealous of my brother."

"Apparently you are." I said pointedly, "On several occasions, including the last time, you-you always…" My words faltered, making me realize that something was wrong, and I looked down at the now empty beer bottle before gazing up at Dean, betrayed. "You son of a—"

Dean caught me as I stumbled over to the side. Everything about him was intoxicating. To be able to feel myself in his arms, I found it harder to stay awake. "You can hate me later, Abs, but Sammy and I need you."

"Bitch…" I actually became overwhelmingly scared about falling asleep. Dean just didn't know. Unconsciousness held me in a tight grip as I finally gave in. Hazel eyes was the only thing I saw before blacking out.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Highway—Night**_

"I can't believe that you went all the way to Louisiana to kidnap, Abigail, and _drug_ her!" Sam disconcerted, throwing another alarmed glance to the backseat, "What the hell where you thinking, Dean?"

I threw him a rather calm look before focusing back on the road ahead. We were barreling down a dark two-lane backdrop with the radio on. The announcer's voice came on after Joe Walsh's _Life's Been Good_ went off, "_Rockin' Nebraska. Your source for the classics, all night long._"

"I was thinkin' that you and I need her here with us than being apart, or have you forgotten about the hit that is still potentially on her head?" I replied. Sam fell silent, obviously remembering. In the light from the dash, I glanced down at my watch seeing that it was fifteen till three in the morning, then sighed, changing the subject back to Sam's freak out, "Why don't we just chill out, think about this?"

Sam knew what I meant, leaning forward to turn off the radio, "What's there to think about?" His eyes were narrowed.

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea," I said.

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it." Sam prompted, "This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where."

"Yeah, man, but..." I gestured my head to Abigail's comatose form hesitantly with Sam's eyes following back to her.

He then pulled his infamous bitchface, "Dude, you brought that on yourself. When she wakes up, she's gonna kick the _both_ of our asses."

"I know! I know." I bit out, "Somethin' tells me that Abs can help."

"So you go and kidnap her." Sam said flatly.

I frowned at his word choice, "Jesus, you're making me sound like some creepy stalker with the word _kidnap_." I snorted, "I didn't _kidnap_, Abs. I just simply…borrowed her."

"Borrow?" Sam prompted with his bitchface in action, "Oh. So now Abigail's an object."

I threw up my hands out of exasperation, "Dude!"

Sam threw another glance over his shoulder, "What're we gonna do when she does wake up?"

"Aside from putting our heads between our legs and kissing our asses' goodbye? Hope for the best that she understands." I glanced into the rearview mirror. _She hadn't moved a muscle since I even got her in Pierre Part_. Abigail had changed her hair color, well, reverted it back to a deep chocolate brown—her natural hair color—in an attempt to stay under the radar. Back at the motel room I had taken notice that she looked exhausted and even distressed. I wanted to know why.

Back in the seat, I noticed her eyelids fluttering rapidly with the slightest twitch of her mouth. It was pulled into a deep, set frown when her face suddenly twisted. I decelerated upon seeing it, knowing whatever she was dreaming about _had_ to be unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, I focused back on the road just as I picked up Sam add something, "Plus it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do, and you and I both know that Abigail has seen them by touching me."

"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there." I stated, referring back to heading to the Roadhouse, "I don't know if-if going in and announcing that you're both some supernatural freaks with a-a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?"

Sam blinked a few times, incredulous, "So, we're freaks now?"

I chuckled, slapping Sam on the thigh, "You and Abs have always been freaks." Gunning the engine, Abigail suddenly jerked awake with shout, undoubtedly scaring the shit out of Sam and me. I stomped on the brake, hard enough for the tires to screech out. Sam twisted around in his seat, alarmed. So did I.

Abigail was sitting up, arms splayed out in front of her to prevent herself from being slung forward and she was breathing hard. Her eyes were wide and wild with fright, taking a moment to regain her composure when she realized where she was at. Her eyes fell on Sam and then me, narrowing into a murderous glare, "What the _fuck_, guys?!"

Sam and I grimaced, "Well, good morning to you too, sunshine." I greeted her flatly, taking my foot off the brake and placed it back onto the gas pedal, the Impala smoothly rolling forward.

"What, the—_why_ the hell am I here?" She demanded.

Sam glanced over to me before looking back to Abigail, "We, uh, needed you…"

I rolled my eyes at Sam, motioning my head to him, "Francis here had another premonition and we're heading back to the Roadhouse." I elaborated, seeing Abigail turn her eyes to Sam. They softened a tad bit upon hearing that, though retained a hardened expression.

"You coulda called." She stated.

I threw her a look, "If I'da called, would you've answered it?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "I wasn't talkin' to you."

I rolled my eyes at her, "Of course you weren't_._" I muttered, catching Sam glance at me quizzically.

"Abigail, it-it's nothing." Sam said quickly, looking back at her, "I'm—"

"Nothing?"I cut him off, "Dude, you about fell over back at the gas station. Don't say it wasn't _nothing_." Sam set his eyes on me, glaring.

From the back, Abigail's brows furrowed in concern, "What about?"

"It's a long story." Sam muttered, obviously trying to curb the questions.

She rolled her eyes at him knowingly, "Apparently we have nothin' _but_ time."

Sam relented, telling her about his premonition, elaborating what he saw. Through the rearview mirror, I saw her face blanch slightly, then run a hand down it. Her knuckles were bruised and swollen like she had been in a fight previously, nails painted as black as the night. Judging by the way she woke up, she had been having nightmares again. I pursed my lips, focusing on the shadow of night. _It seemed like those nightmares are only happening around the same time Sam is having his premonitions now that I think about it._

"Would it sound crazy if I said that the nightmares were startin' back up?" She confessed, earning a bewildered look from Sam, "Same thing…been havin' it this whole week."

I frowned, "You didn't bother calling us and giving us a head's up?"

Abigail's jaw set, "What part of under the radar didn't you get?"

I smirked, "You weren't too far under the radar if I could find you." Her face skewed into a sour look, only for me grin smugly as she raised a hand bringing down all but one finger, "Any time, any place sweet cheeks."

"Go to hell, Dean."

"You first." I quipped.

She scoffed, "Where's my car?"

"I don't know." I replied. Sam's head snapped towards me with a firm gaze. I merely shrugged, practically _feeling_ Abigail's eyes boring holes into the back of my head. At the intensity of it, it was a wonder my head didn't catch on fire.

"Dean Matthew _Winchester_." I heard her growl out, causing me to skew my face into a sour look.

"You are so _not_ using my middle name." I said, incredulous.

"Oh, I am. _Where_. Is. My car?" She growled out, "So help me if someone's jacked my car, breathin' is gonna be the last thing you ever do."

"Jeez, Bobby's on his way down to Louisiana to get it with his wrecker!" I replied, annoyed, "It'll be up at his place once we figure out what's going on with your all's heads."

Sam shook his head at us in agitation, "Thirty minutes and you two are ready to rip each other's heads off." I threw him an exasperated glare telling him to shut up. Upon seeing the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk, I could literally feel my blood pressure rise.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Roadhouse—Night**_

It took Dean approximately an hour to get to the Roadhouse. I had taken the time in between to call Garth back. Whilst speaking with him, I could feel the jealousy roll of Dean. I explained to him that we had been played as fools for taking the job, that the tip wasn't even real. I would glare up at Dean occasionally after explaining why my car was left behind. I didn't get into details, only told him that something came up, apologized and got off my cellphone.

Dean pulled into the parking lot in front of the Roadhouse as I shoved my cellphone into my pocket, taking notice of the activity surrounding the quaint little bar. There were numerous trucks and bikes parked, some people hanging around outside smoking, and some getting in their rides before backing out. Getting out of the car, the three of us made our way into the establishment, passing two men at a table cleaning weapons. From beside Dean, I caught his uneasy glance, keeping Sam and I nearby.

Grabbing Sam by the arm, we stopped when Jo crossed in front of us. Dean, however, almost ran into her, who stopped upon seeing him and smiled coyly at him, "Just can't stay away, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, only for Sam to cut in, "Where's Ash?"

Confused, she motioned to the back, "In his back room." He brushed past her in a hurry, earning another bewildered look from Jo, as she turned back to Dean, "And I'm fine..." She said, keeping her eyes on Dean. Out of everyone in the establishment, I sense Jo's resentment towards me and affection towards Dean. I felt a flurry of jealousy reside in my stomach that I recognized as my own, which made me uncomfortable. I had the urge to punch her for even looking at him like he was a piece of meat, so I took a few, good deep breaths to calm myself down. _We're not together, why does it matter?_

"Sorry, he's—we're... kind of on a bit of a timetable." Dean apologized quickly, as we made our way around her to the back where Sam went. He appeared uncomfortable under her stares, it seemed. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed her glaring at me out of spite. I shrugged back at her, which only seemed to strengthen her glares. I smirked to myself, sensing I had the upper hand of this quarrel, which earned a questioning look from Dean. I shrugged at him as we found Sam standing at a rough wooden door with a sign hanging on it that read, _Dr. Badass is: IN_. None of us needed to ask what he was watching, it was pretty clear of what it was through the sounds from behind the door.

He reached out, knocking, "Ash? Hey, Ash?"

I reached out to knock on the door, "Hey, uh, Dr. Badass?" Upon my query, the door was quickly unlatched and opened a crack to reveal Ash, buck naked. Dean and I averted our eyes, clearing our throats. Ash was comfortable with his body, in which, I could've went my whole life _not_ seeing. Ash's eyes raked over me before moving to Sam and Dean.

"Sam? Dean? Abigail?" He sniffed loudly after we nodded, "Sam, Dean and Abigail—" Ash's mouth tipped up into a smile, "The three musketeers." _Not quite, Ash_.

Sam smiled, uncomfortable at Ash's nudeness, "Hey Ash. Um. We need your help."

"Well, hell then." He stated giving us another once over, "Guess I need my pants." He shut the door quickly. We stood outside the door for a second before I shook my head.

"I coulda went my whole life without seein' that." I muttered to Dean.

"You're tellin' me." He agreed. The three of us turned and walked back into the bar where I broke away from them; keeping within sight for Dean's sake. I took a seat on the stool where Ellen came up with a smile.

"Hey, baby girl." She greeted me.

"Hey, Ellen." I replied, smiling weakly, "You got anythin' strong?"

"Sure do. What's the occasion?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Don't really need one," I mused, trying to keep things simple. From the corner of my eye I could see Dean glancing my way out of habit. Ellen caught our glances, instinctively reaching for two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

Setting them down in front of me, she poured the two glasses full, "Seems like you do." I arched my brow at her, then sighed. Picking the glass of whiskey up, I downed it with a grimace.

"Yeah…" I muttered, laying out fifty, "I'm just gonna drink that bottle." Ellen pushed it back to me, shaking her head.

"On the house." Ellen reached out, picking up her shot of whiskey and down it, "Something tells me that you and Dean are having problems."

"Seems like everyone knows our problems, El." I said, picking up the bottle and filled the glass again, hearing her chuckle. I downed it again, setting it on the bar, "Me and Dean went our separate ways 'bout a week ago…we just weren't gettin' along. Made ourselves miserable." Ellen nodded me to continue as she made another drink for a patron, "Needless to say, the lack of communication was our downfall—"

"Not to mention yours and his bullheadedness." Ellen added. I nodded in agreement, filling up our shot glasses.

"Can't argue with that," I picked up the glass of liquor, downing it. I grimaced with a shiver before I sighed heavily, "Dean wouldn't talk to me about what happened while I was in a coma for the longest time." Ellen paused, looking at me confused.

"Why would he do that?" she asked.

I shrugged, "Thinks I'm strung out or somethin'." The tip of my nose began to tingle after my fourth shot, "Might kill me." I shook my head as I repeated his words that came out of Gordon's mouth, "So, I got tired of his excuses and—" I worked my jaw oddly, peering down to the wooden bar while I ran my finger along the rim of my shot glass, "I pretended to drown to get it out of him." Guilt was eating at me for doing that, but it wasn't until I felt a flurry of disappointment bubble up from Ellen. She knew.

"You're a bright girl. A smart one, and a good mother to your baby." She began. I frowned, knowing where this conversation was going, "Abigail, you and those two boys over there have been through a lot." Ever so slightly, I turned my head to get a glimpse at Sam and Dean. Ash had finally showed up, and was wearing clothes, "I've seen a lot of things and I've heard a lot of things in this bar. From experience, don't let your baby girl grow up without her daddy in the picture. Dean's got a good heart, he just doesn't see it that way." I hummed in agreement. That I did know.

"I suppose you already know about me cuttin' out and runnin'?"

She nodded, "I do." I nodded slowly, "I know that Dean was beating himself up what time they were here." My eyes left the wood grain I had been focused on, "He asked Ash to locate you. It was their secret." I swallowed hard at that news, "I take it he found you?"

"Yeah." I muttered, "Yesterday, to be exact." I sensed surprise from her, and furrowed my brows at her expression, "What?"

"It's just…Dean's known for the past four days. I'm trying to figure out what's took him so long."

"It's hard tellin'." I said, pouring my fifth shot, "The day we ended things…I let somethin' bad slip out…somethin' I should've never told 'im." I downed the shot after a second of fighting it down, "We were fightin' and Dean told me to run back to Sam," I waved my hand sluggishly, "I think he's jealous of 'im or somethin', I dunno. But-but, I told 'im that I would and give our kid a reason to call Sam 'Dad'." I hung my head, aware of what I had just told Ellen disappointed her further. I didn't want to see the look in her eyes—I'd seen a lot of disappointed looks in my time, "I'm a bitch, El. A self-centered, stupid, and heartless _bitch_."

"Why would you say somethin' like that to the boy?" I heard her ask. I shrugged, keeping a firm expression of shame on my face.

I swiped away a few tears that had escaped, "I don't even know why he's wantin' to get back with me—he deserves someone better...Megan deserves better." I caught Jo crossing through the room, moving from table to table, "Someone like Jo."

I felt Ellen's hand take away the empty shot glass and bottle, "Honey, I think you've had enough liquor." Setting them out of reach, she went and got a glass of water, setting it in front of me, "Drink it if you can—it'll clear ya up." I nodded slowly, taking the glass of water in front of me; only to hold it, "Sayin' something like that hurts a man more than any ordinary wound. Don't use your child as a weapon. As your friend, Abigail, I don't want to hear of you saying _anything_ like that again."

"Yes, ma'am." I muttered. Ellen took my hand in hers in a comforting manner.

"You two need each other more than what you think. You two are gonna argue—that's a given in any relationship, and you're gonna break each other's hearts from time to time, sometimes without knowing it. Dean loves you, Abigail, and it was clear when he walked in here a few days ago." Her eyes went to Sam, Dean, and Ash working together on his laptop with a sketch in front of them. Dean was standing behind his brother, watching them, "Whether you know it or not, but your mom would do the same thing you're doing."

I frowned, "Really?"

Ellen nodded with a smile gracing her lips, "Hell, yeah. She'd come in like a tornado that swept up half of Kansas. Her and Steven would've been in a fight earlier, then she'd sit here until she was crying. After you and the twins were born, she calmed down quite a bit." Her smile faltered into one of sad reminiscence, "There was nothing in the world she loved more than Steven and her kids—the three of you. Never got to meet the baby."

"Alyssa?" I asked. When she nodded, I smiled sadly, "She was somethin' else. Her smile could light up the room, and she had this puppy dog look that'd make anyone give into her—kinda like Sam." There was a bit of silence between us, "Dean isn't gonna forgive me for what I said…"

"He will." She assured, "It'll take some time, but he will. He cares about you and your all's baby too much." I nodded, taking everything into consideration. I found myself staring at Dean's backside longer than what I intended as I thought to myself. Jo had been at a nearby table, two or three away from where the boys were at, seeming subtle about her eavesdropping.

Turning back to Ellen, I nodded again, "Thank you, Ellen…for everythin', you know?"

She smiled before walking away, "Anytime."

I drank down the rest of my water, seeing that Dean had broken away from Ash and Sam as he made his way to the bar sitting beside me, silent. "Hittin' it kinda hard, aren't ya?"

I turned my head at him, "I stopped at five."

"More like had to be stopped," He mused dryly.

"Find anythin'?" I asked, fighting to keep myself from having a slight slur.

"Found the sign that Sam drew out belongs to a bus line in Guthrie, Oklahoma." Dean replied, nodding in thanks to Ellen who set a beer in front of him, "Other than that, nothing. Told us he'd find something in fifteen minutes, then we can figure out where to go from there."

Dipping my head in an understanding nod, Dean and I sat in silence. I ran my finger along the rim of my empty glass, fighting with myself to try and find the right words to even start a conversation. "So, uh, listen…" I said lightly. Dean looked over at me expectantly until the opening chords to _Can't Fight This Feeling_ began to play from the jukebox, therefore cutting me off.

_I can't fight this feeling any longer…And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship…Has grown stronger…I only wish I had the strength to let it show. _With horrified looks, we glanced to each other then over to Jo, who was carrying a tray to the bar, and set it down.

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever…I said there is no reason for my fear…Cause I feel so secure when we're together…You give my life direction…You make everything so clear..._

Jo saw us staring, and smiled innocently to Dean, "What?"

"REO Speedwagon?" Dean deadpanned.

"Damn right REO." She replied with a coy smile, giving her chest a good tap, "Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart."

I snorted, "He sings it from the _hair_." Her eyes went to me, letting the coyness of her smile falter, "There's a difference." Dean looked smug at my response as he took a sip of his beer, nodding in agreement.

"That profile you've got Ash looking for?" Jo paused, sending a glance over to Ellen, who was over at the other end of the bar. Dean hummed in response. "Your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?"

Dean tensed as she talked, "Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing."

"I could help." Jo insisted. I understood the gesture was overall sincere, with a hint of jealousy coming from me, and a bit of cynicism towards me from Jo, but the way she was acting—it went plum through me.

I started to drum my fingertips against the bar, slowly at first, "I'm sure you could." Dean and Jo looked to me, "But we've got to handle this one ourselves." Jo's eyes narrowed at me.

"She's right," Dean added. Jo looked back to Dean a little hurt, "Besides, if we ran off with you, I think your mother might kill us." As if she heard us talking, Ellen looked up from cleaning glasses, to which he smiled nervously. Jo stared at us with a raised brow.

"You're afraid of my mother?" She prompted.

"I think so." He answered for the both of us. Around that time, Sam came hurrying up behind Jo; the expression on his face told me everything I needed to know.

"We have a match. We've gotta go." Sam said, urgently.

Dean glanced over to me, nodding, "Alright."

I gave Jo a smile, "See you later, Jo. It's always nice chattin' with you." She gave me a hard look as Dean and I stood up, following behind Sam. Passing Ellen, she gave me a look and jerked her chin in Dean's direction. I splayed my hands out with an exasperated look, before having to walk out the door.

Sam was already in the Impala as I approached it with Dean waiting nearby. Passing him to get to the driver's side rear door, his hand shot out to stop me by grabbing my elbow. I halted, staring at him curiously, "Back in there," he said lowly, "You were about to say something…" His eyes searched my face for some sign of a giveaway, "What was it?"

"Guys!" Sam called out, earning an irritated look from Dean.

I bit my lip, "It's uh, it-it can wait, Dean…Sam's about to have a coronary as it is." He sighed, nodding his head. Letting loose of my arm, he relented and got in leaving me out of the car for a split second. I shook my head, mad at myself for that sorry excuse. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I hissed out under my breath, getting in the back. Taking my place in the backseat, I felt Dean's eyes stay on me, wondering what I had to say to him.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes down the road, Dean was singing strains from <em>Can't Fight This Feeling,<em> a-capella.

"_And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight…You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter night…And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..._" Dean stopped once he saw Sam sitting beside him with an annoyed expression on his face.

"You're kidding, right?" He asked with an arched brow.

Dean shrugged, "I heard the song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head, I don't know, man." He sighed, "Whaddya got?"

Sam rifled through a stack of papers while I held a flashlight over him to look through them, "Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty three—like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later—also like me."

I furrowed my brows at the connection, "You think the demon killed his mom?"

Sam glanced up at me with a grim nod, "Sure looks like it."

"How did you even know to look for this guy?" Dean asked.

"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?"

Dean shifted in his seat, the edges of his ears turned red from what I caught from just peeking at him. _He remembered Max, alright._ "Yeah," he muttered, "but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho that tried to kill Abs and our kid."

Sam fell silent, remembering that unfortunate event as well before blowing out a breath, "The point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy." Sam glanced up at me with hope in his eyes, "Is that what your nightmares were about too?"

This time Dean tore his gaze from the road with a concerned look in his eyes. I hesitated, meeting their expectant looks, remembering what Dean told me that same night Max tried to kill me. _From now on, if you have another one of those, you tell me or Sam as soon as you get up. We won't let that sonofabitch near you or our child. Not now, not ever. Got me?_ "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Dean nodded, "So, how do we find him?"

I shrugged, glancing down at the papers from over Sam's shoulder, "Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities..."

"Collection agency flags?" He asked.

Sam shook his head, "None in the system."

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean asked again, frowning. I shrugged, totally understanding the confusion he was feeling. Nothing was sounding right.

"Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago." I pointed out, earning a nod from Sam.

"Right. We should start there." He said, looking over to Dean, who nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Coffee Shop—Day<strong>_

I shifted in my outrageously baggy work pants that belonged to a pant-suit Kara had bought me. It wasn't that it was baggy on the waist. It fit me perfectly, but it was just baggy all around, and it covered my feet when I sat down. Even in heels, they were still covering my feet by a hair. With pursed, ruby red lips, I tugged the legs of them up over my knees from under the table, pushing away a stand of my brown hair out of my face. Wearing a cream colored top and the matching blazer to the pants, I felt overdressed—even if we were posing for lawyers.

From beside me, Dean watched me shift around in amusement as our waitress poured coffee into our cups, "You won't get anything out of Andy, guys." She said, "I'm sorry, but they never do."

"_They_?" I prompted, curious.

Our waitress, Tracy, nodded, "You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back."

"Actually we're-we're lawyers." Dean corrected her, "Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate."

Sam nodded, falling into step with Dean's tale, "Yeah. So are you a friend of his?" I folded my hands together on my lap, observing her quietly.

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore." She said sadly. _Truth_.

"Andy?" A red haired bus boy asked with a grin, "Andy kicks ass, man."

I shared a smirk with Dean, "Is that right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once, it was beautiful, bro." A smile graced my lips.

"It must've been magical." I said, earning a 'Damn, right it was' from the bus boy. He certainly had no problem chatting people up like old friends, however, something about him felt off. I felt borderline uncomfortable with the way he was chatting nonstop, placing a hand on my shoulder or arm, which caused me to shift slightly in my seat. My eyes fell on Dean, who had been staring, and apparently had a little green monster at his side. With a raised brow at him, he glanced to the bus boy quickly, then glanced back realizing that he'd been caught.

Tracy gave him a pointed look, "How about bussing a table or two, Weber?

Weber saluted her, "Yeah. You bet, boss." As Weber left the table, Dean seemed to relax, shooting daggers at the boy whenever no one was looking.

"Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side." She told us. That seemed to have perked him up.

"Barbarian queen?" Dean asked, amused. _Oh, this was just too good._

Tracy nodded, "She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dean's Point of View<strong>_

_**Orchard Street—Day**_

It had been about an hour since leaving the coffee shop in hopes of finding the aforementioned van—the badass van with a barbarian queen. Just like the waitress back at the coffee shop said, the van was there on Orchard Street. It was a glorious sight to see. I glanced down into the side mirror, reaching out to move it into the backseat. Abigail was sound asleep in the backseat with those pants of hers rolled up past her knees, her matching blazer at her feet, and arms folded across her chest. Despite the fact that Spinal Tap was blaring over the radio, she didn't budge. She was usually the first one to set in singing _Stonehenge_.

_Focus, stupid_. I shifted in my seat, looking ahead for the van, "I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet." I glanced over to Sam, seeing him in one of his moods, "What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

"Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's going on?" I asked.

"This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean." He said lightly, obviously troubled, "Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people."

I suppose he was right about that. The odds weren't exactly in our favor so far, but for my brother's and Abigail's sake, they needed to be. "We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, alright? He could be innocent." I tried to hide the sound of denial in my voice, hoping that Sam would overlook it.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet; Abigail's too." Sam said firmly.

"What's your point?" I asked.

"My point is, I'm one of them." He replied, "Possibly, Abigail as well."

I shook my head at him, "No, you're not. Neither is she."

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me." He continued, "He said that Abigail was getting in his way, that Megan was an abomination. In the way of what, and why?" Sam shook his head in dismay, "Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be —"

"What, killers?" I cut in.

Sam stared at me for a long moment, nodding, "Yeah. And maybe, somehow in some way, Abigail and Megan is the key to stopping all of it. It would explain everything."

"So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? And somehow my ex-girlfriend and daughter have a dog in this fight?" I scoffed, "Come on, Sam, give me a break. You're not a murderer! You don't have it in your bones."

"No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things." He pointed out.

"Those things were asking for it. There's a difference." I spoke with an air of finality in my words that ended the conversation as I looked back out of the window, away from Sam. My eyes wandered back into the side mirror that I had adjusted just right that viewed the backseat perfectly. Abigail was still asleep despite Sam and I's argument.

"Got him." Sam announced, nodding his head to a man. I glanced out to see the man, Andy Gallagher, leave a house in pair of pajamas and a long, black satin robe with dragons embroidered on it. My eyes went up to a second-story window to an attractive blonde waving to him, who blew her a kiss. _That's not odd at all_, I mused.

Andy turned, greeting a man on the street, who smiled at him and handed Andy his coffee. Further up the street, Andy shook hands with a dark-skinned man.

"That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter."

I nodded, "Alright, you keep on him, I'll stick with Andy."

"What about Abigail?"

"Don't worry, I got this. Go." I urged him. Sam got out of the car and followed the supposed shooter on foot while I watched Andy get in his van and drove off, me following right behind him. After a couple of blocks, Andy stopped and got out of his van, making his way towards me. I threw a glance to Abigail's sleeping form in the backseat, and tucking my gun into my jacket.

"Hey." He said, cheerfully.

"Hey, hey." I said quickly, tucking everything away as fast as I could with an uncomfortable smile. _Hell of a time to be asleep, Abs._

"This is a cheery ride." He commented, looking over my car appreciatively.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic." Andy continued. _This kid wasn't so bad. Didn't look like some murderer to me—definitely not like the previous one, Max_.

"Yeah. You know, I just rebuilt her, too." I added.

"Yeah?" Andy asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, can't let a car like this one go."

"Damn straight." Andy commented about the car before looking straight at me, "Hey. Can I have it?"

"Sure, man." I replied without hesitation. I climbed out of the car, smiling, to let Andy in the driver's side.

"Sweet."

"Hop right in there. There ya go." I said, closing the door behind him.

Andy fired up the Impala, "Take it easy."

"Alright." Without another glance, Andy drove off. After he was out of sight, I frowned, blinking several times. I looked around me, confused.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_It was night. I wasn't quite sure where I was at. Looking around me, we were a bridge that lead to a dam; that much I did know. We, meaning Sam, Andy, Tracy, and some other man, were standing off. Sam was on the ground, out cold. I frowned, _Where was Dean?

"_He said I had to wait until the time was—" The man I couldn't see, said, causing my head to snap up._

_"The man with the yellow eyes." He replied, feeling his eyes fall on me. I felt a chill run up and down my spine, "He told me about you—about what you'll do to his plans." There was a smile in his voice, "He said if I exterminate you, I'd get a fine reward."_

_"What're you talking about?" Andy demanded._

_The man turned to Andy with a grin, "He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me." I held my head, suddenly in pain. I didn't know what was going on, barely catching snippets of what the man was saying,"I couldn't-I couldn't let 'em do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No." He turned as if he had heard something, "I see you!" He called out._

_I stood up quickly, turning to look around when a gunshot rang out, and I fell back onto the concrete, hitting my head against the concrete hard. I heard another series shouts, another gunshot, then silence._

I jerked awake with a shout, then was flung forward, hitting the back of the seat, "Son of a—"

"Who are you?!" An unfamiliar voice yelled out in surprise.

Looking to the front seat, I stared back at an unfamiliar man driving Dean's car, "Who the hell are _you?!_" His face blanched at the murderous tone in my voice, "Get the _fuck_ out!"

"Uh, uh—just calm down, alright?" He said, "Yeah, yeah; calm down. Okay?"

I glared at him, "What the-who the _hell_ are you to tell me to calm down?! Get the fuck outta the damn car before I come up there and calm down will be your last fuckin' words!" There was a pleasing sliver of fear that came from the man up in the driver's seat as he fumbled around, totally bewildered about something. All I knew was there was someone that shouldn't be in this car. After another bout of useless attempts of trying to coax me to calm down, I climbed over the front seat, setting in on delivering a set of punches. There was a series of pained yelps and 'okays' before the door was swung open and slammed, causing me to yelp out in pain.

The son of a bitch had slammed my hand up in the door!

It didn't take a second for me to get the door back opened before I was tearing up the road running after this man in pajamas and a black satin robe with dragons in it, and lemme tell you something. I was seeing red. I had ran up an alley, around two blocks, and down another alley before the shithead got away. Breathing heavily, I stood in the middle of the empty alleyway, sifting through each emotion I was feeling. Surveying around me for signs of that robe and most of all, fear. There were several, and it bombarded me like a twenty pound sledgehammer was hitting my head.

"Next time ain't gonna be so easy," I said loud enough, then muttered out curses when I looked down at my hand. My fingers were already turning black and blue with a couple bleeding pretty heavily. I turned my hand over to see that one of the bands on my rings had split, embedding itself in my middle finger. With another curse, I shook my hand it in an attempt to quell the pounding in them, but only made it worse—just my freaking luck. With a final glare, I admitted defeat and headed back, able to hear Dean and Sam from where I was at halfway down the block.

"Thank god! Oh. I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again." Dean gushed. There was a pause, "Well, at least he left the keys in it."

"Yeah. Real Samaritan, this guy." Sam muttered before pausing, "Where's Abigail?"

"I don't know. You don't think he Obi-Wan'd her too?" I paused, hearing Dean's voice become thick with worry. There was a moment of silence before I felt Dean's heart do summersaults. Sam was undoubtedly worried about the situation, "Son of a _bitch!_ Abs!" I shook my head at them, rounding the corner with one last glance to my bruised and bleeding hand ruefully.

"Dean, there she is!" Sam called out, causing me to look up as they came running to meet me on the other sidewalk, "Abigail, what happened?" I shrugged, casting a glance over my shoulder from where I came from, "Are you okay?"

"Did Andy Obi-Wan you?" Dean questioned before I could speak, "Cause I swear to God I'll rip his lungs out—"

"Guys, will you two calm down?" I said pointedly. They blinked, seeming a bit confused, "Nobody Obi-Wan-Kanobi'd me," Dean and Sam's face became flooded with relief, "I woke up. Sam wasn't in the car, and you weren't in the car." I told them, "Some guy was in there, he tried to 'calm me down'," My shoulders lifted into a nonchalant shrug, "So, I kicked his ass, got my hand slammed in the door, and chased him for two or three blocks before I lost 'im."

Needless to say, the smug look on Dean's face was wiped clean when I mentioned my hand being slammed in the door. Instinctively, his eyes landed on my bleeding hand. I flexed my hand to the best of my ability to ease his troubled looks, "Doesn't even hurt." I said in false reassurance, earning the trademark Dean Winchester bitchface.

"Liar." I rolled my eyes at him as I continued to flex my hand a few times until Dean caught my wrist to look at it.

Sam arched his brow at us, "So, you didn't get affected by him?"

I glanced away from Dean to Sam, shaking my head, "No? Why?"

"'Cause that's how Andy got the car—full-on Jedi mind-tricks." Dean confessed, not all too casual as what he was trying to play off. He was livid, even more so as he turned my hand over to expose my blood covered palm. I had taken off every ring except the one that was embedded. Dean's eyes darkened at the sight, glancing over to the car, "Don't move."

I nodded as he unlocked the trunk and pulled out the first-aid kit. "From what I've seen in the few short minutes he was trying to 'calm me down', he can't work his mojo just by twitchin' his nose." I looked back to the alleyway again causing Dean and Sam to do the same, "He's gotta use verbal commands."

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus. Andy must have called him or something." Sam said sullenly. I was taken aback by the news, seeing Dean nod in confirmation when I turned my head at him.

"That's not possible," I said, "I was chasin' him up the street for a good five minutes."

Dean nodded, "She's has a point, Sam." Moving to the bonnet, he set the first-aid kit down with the lid opened, taking out a roll of gauze, alcohol, and a handkerchief. He motioned me over to where he was at. Doing so, I held my hand out allowing Dean to clean my hand with the handkerchief.

"Beg your pardon?" Sam asked, looking to the both of us with a deep frown. We frowned back at him.

"I just don't know if he's our guy, Sam." Dean told his brother, looking back down to my hand. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, "I mean, Abigail just laid a beatdown on Andy and chased him for how long?" I winced when he neared my injured finger, throwing me an apologetic look, "Sorry." He muttered.

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about this?"

"Doubts, hell." I huffed out.

Dean glanced over to me before looking back to Sam, "He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all. You know."

"And O.J. _was_ guilty." I added, earning a grateful look from Dean, and an incredulous one from Sam.

"Thank you!" Dean exclaimed. I felt my mouth curve into a half-smile.

"Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?" Sam finally asked, rolling his eyes at us.

Dean thought for a moment, then glanced to Sam and me with that irresistible smirk of his, "Not a problem, just give me a second though." Sam looked impatient, though considering what Dean was doing, he didn't speak. Gently moving my finger up, Dean's eyes met mine, "I'm gonna be as easy as I can, Abs."

"Just do it." I muttered. He nodded, getting a good grip on the ring with his fingers and pulled the pinched metal outwards. I took a sharp intake of air, "Ohh, motherfucker…" I hissed out in pain. He had to pull on it a couple of times until the band was fully extended before Dean was able to pull it off, dropping it in my hand. I stared at it sadly.

"It was your mom's wasn't it?" Dean asked.

I nodded, "Yeah. You'd think I'd learn to keep 'em off once in a while." His lips were in a line, knowing that it hurt me to have something of my parents destroyed; it hurt him too. A couple of minutes went by as Dean finished cleaning and bandaging my hand with a pleased smile gracing his features. I noticed Sam watching us quietly with a small smile on his face. From what I sensed, he was feeling hopeful; of what?

"Good as new, Abs." He said, messing up my hair, "We'll find you some ice to put on it later on." I nodded as he put everything away. Getting in, Dean drove back to where Andy had left his van a few blocks back. Approaching it from the back, I had to take a moment to admire it's appearance.

"Not exactly an inconspicuous ride." I pointed out, admiring the van's originality. Next to the Impala and my Dad's old ride, this was one of the nicest vehicles I've seen in a while.

Dean pulled out a small crowbar from his jacket, "Let's have a look." Prying the back door open, porn music started to play. The three of us gaped at the van's interior; it was decked out with a disco ball, fur rugs, a tiger painted on the wall, several thick books, and an enormous bong.

"Oh, sweet lord." I breathed out.

"Oh. Oh, come on." Dean sighed out, "This is... this is magnificent, that's what this is." I nodded, instantly feeling a pang of regret that I practically put the fear of God into this kid.

"Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though." I added, seeing him nod. Dean bent further to inspect everything. From my vantage point, Dean's backside was a better sight.

"There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos." Dean pointed out, oblivious to my excessive staring, "I like the tiger."

Sam caught me staring however, raising a brow at me. My face flushed red with embarrassment and I grinned at him sheepishly. He shook his head, moving to the van, "Hegel, Kant, and Wittgenstein?" Sam read off some of the book's authors. I raised my brows at that, "That's some pretty heavy reading, Dean."

Something from within caught my attention. I grinned, reaching out to pick up the enormous bong, "Yeah, and uh, and Moby Dick's bong." I laughed at it, eyeing it really, "I feel pretty shitty for even kickin' this kid's ass." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, "He'd totally be someone I'd party with back in the day."

Dean pursed his lips, taking the paterfamilias away from me, stuffing it back to its rightful place, "Yeah, party."

I arched my brow at him, "Surely to God, you're not jealous."

Dean straightened up, "I'm not jealous." His eyes glanced away from my persistent staring, before he cleared his throat. He was definitely jealous, had been since we came to town, and a very good indication that he was, was the fact that he had been a total brat. A couple of hours had passed and we found ourselves in a vacant lot.

Sam had switched me places so that he had the backseat to himself to splay out a stack of papers he had been studying for the better part of the day. He had been relentless. Dean was up front eating a microwavable cheeseburger with a dissatisfied look.

"Ugh. You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a mini-mart." He grumbled out.

"I cooked every time we were at Bobby's." I said, popping a _Doritos_ chip in my mouth. Dean looked over to me with a half-smile.

"Yeah, you did." He reminisced, "You put this burger to shame by looking at it."

I laughed lightly, "Do I?"

Dean nodded, "You do." He sighed taking a bite of the remaining burger, "I could totally eat some of your fried bacon-wrapped chicken right about now." I rolled my eyes, failing miserably at hiding a grin. Dean noticed it, smiling himself at his accomplishment. Apparently we reached out at the same time to get our bottles of pop, and coincidentally, our fingers brushed. It was kind of thrilling to be honest. Like two shy kids, we glanced at each other, smiling nervously.

I needed to find some way to make it right. _Just apologize_, "Dean, I—"

"What I don't get is the motive." Sam blurted out from the back, interrupting me. _Today is just not my day to apologize_. Dean almost glared at his brother for doing so. "I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?"

"If it is Andy." We muttered.

"Guys, enough." Sam chided.

Dean twisted in his seat, "What?"

"The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math."

"I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all." Dean said.

"How the hell would you know?" Sam challenged, "I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at him, "'Cause you're not right about this, and Abigail went Stone Cold on him too at the same time it happened, Sam." I stiffened upon feeling a whirlwind of anger and before I could get out and do anything, someone had slammed their hands on my side of the car. I practically jumped into Dean's lap upon seeing Andy leaning in with a rather pissed off look.

"Hey! You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?" He demanded, the last sentence reverberates strangely. Dean looked stunned.

Sam glanced up to me, "Well, we're lawyers." He answered, "See, a relative of yours has passed aw-"

"_Tell the truth_!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Listen, buddy. That's what he's—"

"We hunt demons." Dean answered honestly. Sam and I stared at him in shock.

Andy's face skewed into a look of disbelief, "What?"

"Dean!" I barked out.

He didn't listen, "Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Sam here, he's my brother." Dean motioned to Sam respectively, "That gorgeous ass-kicker there, is my girl, Abigail…well, we broke up. I've been trying like hell for the past week to get her back."

I felt my throat close at his revelation, "Dean, shut up!"

His eyes were wide in horror, "I'm trying!" He replied, panicked, "He's psychic. Kind of like you guys. Well, not really like you, Abigail, you're different." He turned to Andy, "But see, Sam thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible, but we think Abigail and my six week old daughter is the key to ending it." Sam and I sat in the car with our mouths hanging open. "I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right."

"Okay, you know what? _Just leave me alone_." Andy said.

Dean nodded, "Okay." Andy started to walk away, leaving Dean in the front seat, cringing and holding his head. Sam and I climbed out of the car, following behind him. He turned back around.

"What are you doing?" He said, glancing from me to Sam. "Look, I-I said leave me alone." I arched my brow at him, "Alright? Get out of here, just start driving and never stop."

"Doesn't seem to work on me, Andy. _Or _my sister." Sam told him.

Andy's eyes widened, "What?"

"You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think." He continued. The sound of Dean getting out of the car caused me and Sam to look back at him, shaking our heads 'no' as a warning to not come closer.

"Look, tha—" Andy laughed, "That's crazy."

"It all started about a year ago, didn't it?" Sam asked, "After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it."

Andy shuffled, uncomfortable at Sam's questions, "How do you know all this?"

"Because the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities too. You see, we're connected, you and me." Sam gestured between him and Andy. He was perturbed, but looked over to me, daring himself to ask me a question.

From our earlier encounter, he decided against it, "You know what? Just, just, just, just get out of here, alright?!"

"Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" Sam demanded. I grabbed his arm to ease him back to my side.

"What?"

Sam cringed in pain, as did I. There was a flash of fire, and a hand holding a gas pump. "Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't!" Andy shouted, upset.

Sam cringed, sagging into me as his premonition hit us both, full-force:

_A middle-aged blonde woman with leather gloves and a long black coat is pumping gas into an SUV. Her cellphone rings; she answers._

"_Hello?" She asked. There was a flash of fire, a man shying away from it. With a nod she smiled, "Sure. I can do that." Upon hanging up the phone, she leaned into the car, pressing down the cigarette lighter. She pulls out the gas pump and starts drenching herself in gasoline. A gas station employee across the way sees her._

"_Hey! Lady, what are you doing?!" He shouted out, bewildered. The woman pulled out the cigarette lighter, stepped out into the open with her arm held out._

"_It's gonna be okay." She said, lowering the lighter to her drenched arm._

"_Lady, no! No!" The employee shouted out, horrified. It was no time that this woman burst into flames_.

Unsteady from the premonition, I failed to keep Sam steady. Our hands were on our heads out of pain, beginning to fall. I didn't hear Dean run over to catch us both, nor did I feel him even grip my arm as I fell. All I know is that I felt the heat of the fire burn my skin, and I was on the verge of a breakdown right then and there.

"Sam? Abs?! What is it?" Dean's alarmed voice cut through the haze.

"Look, I didn't do anything to him." Andy told Dean out of panic.

"A woman." Sam muttered, "A woman burning alive."

"What else'd you get?" Dean asked.

I trembled, "A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself."

Andy's eyes widened, "What does she mean, going to? What is she, what is—?"

"Shut up!" Dean ordered him from over his shoulder.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell." I said, trying to wipe away fresh tears. Dean reached out to do so, appearing to be as distressed as we were.

"When?" He asked, gently.

Sam and I shook our heads, "We don't know." Dean helped Sam stand while motioning Andy to help me, "But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch he can't hurt her." Sam said, jerking his head in Andy's direction.

"He didn't hurt anybody." I defended him, earning shocked and disbelieving looks from Sam and Andy.

"Not yet." Sam told me just as a fire engine roared past. Watching it come by, my heart sank, so I started running after the fire engine. I didn't hear Sam tell Dean to go after me, or did I hear him calling out for me to wait. There was no time to wait. The closer I managed to get, the harder it became to breathe. My chest burned, my eyes burned; my entire body burned and I soon became overwhelmed by strong feelings of horror, disbelief, and sorrow.

"Son of a bitch." I breathed out, frozen in my spot upon seeing a group of firemen putting out the fire, Dean stopping close behind me. I hung my head, angry that we didn't make it there in time. Dean's hand touched my back as I covered my mouth.

"You okay?" I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting off a round of angry tears before nodding.

"Yeah… Call Sammy, tell him it's too late." Standing on the corner, across the street from everything that was happening, I sank to the curb, lowering my head to my knees. I had felt everything this woman felt in her last moments; the fear, the pain…regret. Behind me I could hear Dean talking to Sam in a low voice, pacing.

"Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you and Abs said." I bit my lower lip to stop the trembling, "Like minutes before we got here! I mean the smell hasn't even cleared." Dean let out harsh breath, "What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start." I jumped slightly at the sound of his boots scraping against the asphalt when he turned around, "Listen, you were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it-it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this."

"It is," I muttered.

Dean paused, looking at me with an imploring look before his eyes narrowed at something Sam said to him. "What else is new?" He replied to Sam, "Well, Abs and I'll dig around here, see what else we can find." After he hung up, Dean joined me on the curb, "Mind tellin' me what you meant by that?"

I glanced over to the gas station, tears filling up my eyes, "My nightmare…there was somebody else that has the same thing. I-I couldn't exactly tell who it was…"

"And you didn't mind telling us this?" Dean's voice came out a little harsh.

"I just had it," I replied in a tone much similar to his, "That's what I woke up from in the back of the car when it got hijacked." When I looked over to Dean, he was staring back at me, shocked.

His features softened when he nodded slowly, "What else happened in it?"

It took me a minute to will myself to speak, "I just know that-that Sam, me, Andy, and that waitress was in it…and I, uh…got shot."

Silence. There was a sliver of fear that crept up my spine, as it had Dean's, "What?" I shrugged, remaining quiet, "Abigail, if someone is gonna shoot you, you need to tell me so Sam and I can help." He said, "Tell me what needs to happen."

"There's nothin' you can do about it, Dean." I muttered.

Dean let out scoff, "Nothing I can do about it?" He stood up, running his hands through his hair before they hit either side of his legs, "Abigail, you've got a hell of nerve—"

"At least you're the first one I'm talkin' about it to." I pointed out suddenly, seeing him halt and turn to look at me. Rising to my feet, I threw another glance to the gas station, "I know who's gonna shoot me and where it's gonna go down, but you're not gonna like it."

Dean gave me a hesitant look, "Tell me."

I worked my jaw oddly, "At some bridge, at night. Not sure when."

He nodded, "Okay…Who is it then? Andy?" I shook my head no, "Sam?" I shook my head again and I felt his heart squeeze, "It's me."

"I don't know… you weren't with us at the time." Dean looked like he had been slapped or punched in the gut, "Maybe it's someone else."

"Abigail, we need to figure this out—" He started to ramble.

"Dean," I cut him off, "It's gonna happen. I'm fine with it. I guess, in a way, I deserve it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "How can you say that?"

"Because I can." I replied, "After everythin' I've done to you? Everythin' that's happened to my family, this past week—" I shook my head to get on with the bigger picture, "That hit's still on my head, Dean. I don't know if I live or die; I woke up." His entire body stood in a manner that read 'defiant', refusing to fall underneath the weight of his trepidation; something I let get to myself more often than I should. I ran a hand over my face, sifting through my head to try and pinpoint what I was missing—overlooking—so that there was some way of delaying the inevitable.

Amongst the clamoring from across the street, I managed to shove away several thoughts, outcomes and emotions that I was fighting with. I hadn't even realized that Dean had stood closer to me until I felt his arms wrap around my waist, only to pull me against him. I didn't move away from him, I didn't even think about wanting to move. I remained where I was at in his arms, like I wanted to be all this time. I didn't even want to think about us being broke up, for this moment; this day, would potentially be my last. And as a result, I did the unthinkable. I tipped my head up, pressed my lips against his, and squeezed my eyes shut. I expected him to push me away like I was the common plague, cuss me out, make up every excuse to _not_ kiss me despite everything that's happened between us, but he didn't, which surprised me to say the least.

At first, he was startled about what was happening, fighting with himself really. However, under the circumstances that had been laid out on the table in front of him, Dean relented, sliding his hands from around my waist in order to hold my face between them as he kissed me back. It was a gentle kiss, a short one. Coming from Dean, it was reassuring. As he pulled away, everything about him; his stance, his demeanor, and the light that he held within his eyes seemed to have softened, maybe even glazed over with hidden fear.

"We'll figure something out, Abs. I swear it." He said lightly, "We need to find out as much as we can here so that we can link Sam's premonitions together—see why everything is happening."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sam's Point of View<strong>_

_**Vacant Lot—Day**_

Sometime had passed by. Perturbed that my premonition had already happened, I sat across from Andy on an abandoned truck, explaining what Dean, Abigail, and I did since we had nothing but time until my brother and Abigail came back from the scene. After hearing a little bit about him, I realized that Andy was an alright kid.

"So, you get these premonitions of people about to die?" Andy reiterated. I nodded in response, watching as Andy shook his head, "That's impossible."

The corner of my mouth quirked up as I laughed, "A lot of people would say the same thing about what you do."

He let out a laugh of concession, "But ... death visions?"

I nodded for about the third time, "Yeah."

"Dude, that sucks. I mean, like, when I got my mind thing? It was like a gift, you know, it was, it was like I won the Lotto."

"But you still live in a van." I pointed out to him, "I don't get it, I mean, you could ... have anything you ever wanted."

Andy lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, "I mean, I-I got everything I need."

"So you're really not a killer, huh?"

Andy let out a laugh, "That's what I've been trying to tell you! Hell, seems like that Abigail was right."

I laughed along with him, only softer, "Yeah. Apparently so. Means there's hope for both of us."

"Lemme tell you, she's one tough chick, Abigail is." He said, "I don't exactly blame her for landing those punches," I smiled as he gestured to one side of his face that held a couple of bruises and red places.

"Abigail's something else." I said.

"So what's the deal with your brother and her?" Andy blurted out, earning a surprised look from me. He held his hands up as a submissive gesture, "Sorry, habit."

I scratched the back of my head, "It's fine. Uh…It's just, they hit a rough patch in the road."

Andy snorted, "Sounds like they hit a ditch."

"Yeah, it sounds a lot better than 'rough patch'." I agreed, "I guess things didn't exactly go as they wanted…they're both stubborn. Even when we were kids, they always argued and fought."

"So, she has abilities too?"

I nodded, "Yeah, she's been able to see supernatural beings—the things my brother, Abigail, and I hunt—since she could remember. Recently, she got this ability to step into a room or touch an object, and from what she says, it's like stepping into the past and being able to see what had happened and feel what they felt." For the most part, Andy seemed perplexed about everything happening around him. Distressed, maybe, but who wouldn't be? We sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you think what your brother said about her being able to fix this is true?" He asked.

"I don't know," I replied honestly, "I'd be lying if I said 'yes'."

Andy nodded slowly, looking down at the truck bed in front of him, "I always wanted a brother or a sister; someone that had my back." Andy shrugged, "You're a lucky man, Sam, to be able to have a brother like Dean, and an adopted sister like Abigail. Hell, to even be able to say you have a niece." I couldn't help but smile at that. Maybe I was lucky.

We turned upon hearing the roar of the Impala, standing up as Dean and Abigail got out of the car. Given their grave expressions, I hoped that they had at least come up with something useful.

"Victim's name was Holly Beckett, forty-one, single." Dean announced, coming to the front of the car with Abigail meeting him. I noticed that they were standing closer to each other, _much_ closer.

"Who is she?" I asked, looking over to Andy.

He shook his head, "Never heard of her."

Abigail leaned against the bonnet, "We called Ash on the way over here; he came up with a little somethin'." She said, squinting from the sun shining in her eyes, "Apparently Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983." Her eyes went to Andy, "Same day you were born, Andy."

I furrowed my brows at him, "Andy, were you adopted?"

"Well, yeah." He replied with a small shrug.

"You were? And you neglected to mention that?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"Never really came up." Andy told us, "I mean, I-I never knew my birth parents, and-and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby do you—do you think this Holly woman could actually be my—?"

Dean and Abigail exchanged sympathetic glances, "We don't know." She answered his unanswered question, "Dean and I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office."

"Well, screw that." Andy said with a confident smile.

Come sun down, the four of us were in the back room of the records office sifting through boxes of files; Dean, Abigail, and I were while Andy walked an elderly security guard to the door.

"Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here." He said, worried.

"No, it'll all be fine. Alright? Just go get a cup of coffee." Andy told him in reassurance, as the guard left, he continued in a dramatic voice, "_These aren't the 'droids you're looking for._"

Abigail and Dean grinned as they overheard a quote from Star Wars, "Awesome."

For the most part I ignored them, only snapping my fingers to get their attention, pointing down to a paper, "I got it."

"Yeah?" Abigail asked.

"Yeah." I replied, looking up at Andy sympathetically, "Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother."

Andy just looked stunned. Hurt about the unfortunate events that had happened prior, "Huh." He managed to say as he sunk down into a chair, looking to each of us, "Does anyone have a Vicodin?"

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them." I told him.

"Yeah, but I-I didn't kill them." Andy insisted.

Abigail reached out to touch him on the shoulder in reassurance, a gentle reassuring smile to add with it. "We believe you."

Dean and I nodded, agreeing with her, "Yeah."

"But uh, who did?" Dean asked.

"I think I got a pretty good guess." I added, "Holly Beckett gave birth to twins." This was pretty hard news to take. Andy had leaned over with both hands on his head, staring at the ground in front of him in shock. Abigail and Dean stood by a printer nearby awaiting a fax to be sent over while I paced in front of them with a folder in my hands.

"I have an evil twin." Andy spoke finally. I glanced over to Dean and Abigail, who shrugged at me, equally concerned.

"Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. And you went to the Gallagher family, obviously," I elaborated for him, "and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate."

Andy fell silent again, staring ahead. Dean took a step forward upon seeing Andy's face turn a few shades paler than some of the papers in the room, "Andy, how you doin'? Still with us?"

"Um… What was my brother's name?" Andy asked, looking up at me from the chair.

"Ansen Weems." I said, "And he's got a local address."

Andy's eyes shot up to me in shock, as did Dean and Abigail's, "He-he lives here?"

Upon hearing the fax machine go off, Abigail twisted around to catch the paper coming out, "Let's get a look at 'im. Got his picture comin' off from the DMV right now." She explained, pulling some papers out of the printer and looked at them. Her face blanched, nudging Dean in the side, earning a deeply concerned look from him as he took a look at the papers too.

"Hate to kick you while you're freaked." Dean said, "Take a look at that." He held out one of the pages to Andy, who looked up in shock. I gaped.

It was Weber.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Abigail's Point of View<strong>_

_**Road—Night**_

Dean was driving the Impala down a dark road with Sam beside him and Andy in the back seat with me.

"Alright, Andy." I spoke gently, "Tell us everythin' you know about this guy."

He shrugged, "Well, I mean, not much. I... Weber shows up one day, eight months ago? Acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kinda weird, like, trying too hard, you know?"

I cringed slightly, glancing up to Sam, who was rubbing his eyes. _He's getting ready to have another premonition_, I thought.

"Must have known you guys were twins," Dean suggested, "Why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?"

"No idea."

Sam let out a pained sound, causing Dean to look at his brother concerned, "Sam?" I practically lunged up from the backseat, planting my hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. I needed to see things for myself as Dean's bewildered shouts faded away.

_Tracy wearing only satin lingerie walked slowly to the side of a ravine. Crying, she climbed onto the ledge and looks around. She paused, looking back, then leapt._

It didn't end there for me. I heard a series of glass shattering, angry shouts, and two gunshots. It was like a whirlwind of chaos that erupted in front of my very eyes, like a bad acid trip—the ones they try to perceive on TV.

_I saw Weber's face grinning hysterically, "I see you!"_ _It repeated until it began to slow down into a low, rumbling growl that ended a condescending, pair of yellow-eyes and a Cheshire cat grin._

"_I see you, Abby-girl."_

Sam's panicked yells slammed me back into reality, breathing hard when Dean stopped the car, and I covered my mouth with both of my hands to stop a scream from escaping. In the backseat, I curled up, trembling with Dean kneeling in front of Sam, grabbing his shoulders.

"Sam? Sam!" He yelled out, "Hey! What'd you see?"

Andy had scrounged himself against the driver's side door as I ran my hand through my tangled hair, "Hey! Hey, man, she's freaking out back here, too!"

Dean swung the door open, pulling my face to look at him. His eyes were wide and wild with concern, "Abs, hey. Look at me." His face was etched in fear for the both of us as he scanned my face, "What'd you see? What'd you and Sam see?"

"A dam." Sam croaked out from the front. Time was now of the essence. Between the time it took to get there and the time it took for Sam and I to clear our heads, we all got out and circled around to the trunk, which Dean opened.

Sam reached out to stop him, only for his brother to give him a hard look, "Dean, you should stay back."

Hazel eyes fell on me before flickering back to Sam, then nodded, "No argument here. Had my head screwed with enough for one day." Sam gestured his head to me, pulling out two handguns. The both of us were stopped; Sam by Andy and myself by Dean. His hand was wrapped tightly around my arm.

"You don't have to go out there." He told me in a low tone.

"I know." I said simply, glancing over to Sam and Andy's heated argument. Pulling my bottom lip in, I chewed on it a second before Dean released my arm, bringing his hand to my cheek as his thumb brushed my lips. Wordlessly, he tipped his head to capture my lips against his. The way he kissed me absolutely took my breath away, being every sense of who Dean was as a person; soft and easy going, but somehow heavy and urgent.

"Don't go," he barely whispered his plea after we pulled away, leaving enough room between us to stare at each other.

I reached out to take his face in my hands, seeing him close his eyes and lean into my touch. Overall, he was tense about the whole situation, the truth of what was going to boil down to. The fact that I could feel it as if it were my own, killed me. I wanted to stay behind, be safe with him by my side, but Sam needed me to back him up, "I can't, Dean, and you know that."

"I know…" he mumbled.

I took a deep breath, "Dean…if things go bad, I just—"

"I'm sorry too." Tears pricked my eyes at his words.

I nodded, "…I love you."

Dean's face skewed into a pained expression, cupping his hand over mine and squeezed it, "Be careful, _please_."

"Always, Dorkchester." I teased, trying to elicit a smile from him.

It worked for the most part, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a light, uneasy laugh before we heard Sam clear his throat. Dean's grip on my hand tightened for a split second. I looked back to him, then gently pulled my hand from Dean's. I pulled off my necklace—the one he made—placing it in his hand, "I'm comin' back for this." I told him, "Don't lose it."

"You got it," He replied weakly. I offered a weak smile before I kissed him again, quickly this time, then turned to walk with Sam and Andy. We had come up to a car with two figures in it. I motioned over to the driver's side with Weber's back turned to us as the passenger side contained Tracy—she was terrified, though at ease at the same time if that was even possible.

Sam didn't hesitate and shattered the window, holding his handgun in Weber's face, "Get out of the car! Now!"

"_You really don't want to do this._" Weber growled out almost, it sounded distorted. Sam backhanded him across the face, while I pulled the passenger door open, allowing Andy to pull Tracy out.

She was fighting against him, "Tracy! Come here, come here, come here." He told her, trying to calm her down, "It's okay."

"Andy! I can't!" She replied, "I couldn't control myself." I gazed at her sympathetically before I rounded the front of the car with my gun drawn when Sam pinned Weber facedown over the pavement, ordering him not to move. I pulled out a roll of duct tape, tearing off a strip and slapped it over Weber's mouth just as Andy rushed over to kick him twice. He was _furious_. Sam hauled him backwards.

"No! No, Andy, let me and Abigail handle this, alright?"

"I'm gonna kill you!" Andy roared out from over Sam's shoulder.

I pointed to Andy, "No! Sam and I'll handle this! We'll handle this!"

Overtop Andy's furious screams, I heard Sam saying, "Andy! Listen to me! Listen to me!" I felt a similar, uncontrollable feeling of ease once more, glancing up from Weber as Tracy picked up a large stick.

"Sam!" I shouted out, just as she hit him on the back of the neck, "No!" I went over to him, forgetting about Weber when Andy turned to Tracy.

"Tracy, stop!" Andy told her, "I said _stop it_!" Tracy dropped the stick and backed away, terrified. I checked on Sam, tapping his face with some force behind it—he was out cold. Andy and I focused on Weber, who was up on his feet, pulling the duct tape off his mouth.

"How did you do that?" Andy asked warily.

"Practice, bro. If you'd just practice, you would know. Sometimes you don't need to use your words. If you have to," Weber tapped his forehead with a flippant smile, "All you need is this. Sometimes the headache's worth it."

Andy lunged at Weber, "You're a twisted son of a bitch!"

I pointed my gun at Weber, "Don't make a move, Weber."

Weber's eyes fell on me, taking in my appearance before he smirked, "You know, the fact that you're holding a gun makes you even hotter," I clenched my jaw at his words, "Kinda sucks you gotta die. So, if you wanna live a little bit longer, I'd suggest you back off." Weber turned his eyes to Andy, "Along with you, Andy. Or Tracy's gonna do a little flying."

My eyes followed over to see Tracy standing on the ledge, "Alright! Just-just, don't do anythin' rash." I relented, slowly lowering my gun to the asphalt and held my hands up.

"Okay." Andy said as well, "Alright, just- just please don't hurt her." We stood next to each other with our hands up.

"Don't be mad at me, okay? I know, it's-it's all wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen, it's just... Tracy? She's trying to come between us." Weber told Andy.

"You're insane." I said.

"She's garbage!" Weber shouted, "They all are! We can-we can push them, we can make them do whatever we want!"

"Are you really- are you really this stupid? Is it-?" Andy fumbled over his words, unable to form a coherent sentence, "I mean, you, you learn you've got a twin...you call him up, you go out for a drink, you don't start killing people!" He exclaimed as Sam started to come to. I kneeled by him, brushing his hair from his eyes. With a wince, he nodded at me that he was okay.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, bro. But he didn't let me. He said I had to wait until the time was..." I snapped my head up.

"Who?" I demanded.

"The man with the yellow eyes." He replied, feeling his eyes fall on me. I felt a chill run up and down my spine, "He told me about you—about what you'll do to his plans." There was a smile in his voice, "He said if I exterminate you, I'd get a fine reward."

"What're you talking about?" Andy demanded.

Weber turned to Andy with a grin, "He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me." I held my head, suddenly in pain. I didn't know what was going on, barely catching snippets of what Weber was saying,"I couldn't-I couldn't let 'em do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No." He turned as if he had heard something, "I see you!" He called out.

I stood up quickly, turning to look around when agunshot rang out, and I fell back onto the concrete, hitting my head against the concrete _hard_. I heard another series shouts, another gunshot, then silence before I finally urged myself to reach up to my shoulder. Retracting my hand, I saw it glistening a dark red from under the illumination of the moon. With a pained groan, the numbness from the adrenaline wore off.

I sat alongside the concrete wall with Sam and Dean standing off to the side nearby. We were all watching Andy talk to the cops with more confidence in his voice it sounded like.

"Look at him. He's getting better at it." Sam muttered to Dean. I watched as he passed an ambulance where Tracy was sitting with a blanket around her shoulders. He paused, only for her to avoid his look, before he pressed on to us. With an approving nod from the medic, he straightened up and left just as Andy approached. Dean held out his hand to help me up, I took it.

"She won't even look at me." Andy told us.

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up." Sam mused.

"No, it's—" Andy shook his head, "This is different. It's, uh, I never-I never used my mind thing on her before. Before last night." He threw her another glance, "She's scared of me now."

"Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here." Sam said apologetically, then held out a piece of paper, "Here. I wrote down my cell, and Abigail's." He told him, "You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me or her."

"We'll be right there." I added, before the three of us began to walk away.

Andy was left fumbling over his words, "Wha- what am I supposed to do now?"

We paused, turning to look at him. "You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back." I frowned that Dean had to threaten Andy like that, but I was too sore and too tired to really say anything otherwise. Maybe it was best that Dean had said that, since Andy was already scared. Dean placed his hand at the small of my back when we started back to the Impala.

"Looks like I was right." Sam said.

I arched my brow, "About what?" I asked.

"Andy. He's a killer after all." He replied.

Dean shook his head at him, "No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved my life, and even stopped Weber from killing Abigail."

"Bottom line, last night, he wasted somebody." Sam reiterated.

"Yeah, but he's not a foamin'-at-the-mouth psycho, like Max was." I pointed out from between them, "He was just-" I shrugged, "He was pushed into that."

"Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death." Sam argued.

Dean and I rolled our eyes at him, pausing, "What's your point, Sam?"

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder-_everyone_." He said, "You know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us." I furrowed my brows, feeling Dean's hand tighten slightly, "Finding ways to break us."

"Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay?" Dean said, "Quit worrying about it."

"You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am." Sam used his last card.

"That was mind control!" Dean chided, pulling his arm away from me, "I mean, it's like-like" He shook his head, "That's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count!"

"What?" Sam asked. I glanced between the two with an amused smile.

Dean shook his head fervently, "No. I'm-I'm calling do-over."

"What are you, seven?" I quipped.

"Doesn't matter." He told me, "Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it. That means you too, Abs. You gotta stay with us. We'll stay near Sioux Falls until Megan's out, and after the demon's dead and gone, then you can do whatever." I held my hands up at him, signaling defeat on that.

Dean looked over to Sam with a firm gaze. Sam nodded doubtfully, "Yeah, I guess."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Roadhouse—Day<strong>_

Sam, Dean, and I were sitting at the bar, Ellen behind it and Jo walking around the outside. Since we had arrived, Jo had been flitting around us, near Dean of course. As far as I knew, I didn't know mine and his relationship status.

"Jo?" Ellen asked. She looked up at her mother, "Go pull up another case of beer."

"Mom..." She began to protest.

"Now. Please." Ellen said firmly. With an agitated sigh, Jo left, leaving the four of us in the bar. She leaned on the bar in front of us, "So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?"

Dean shook his head, "No. Not really." He said, "No offense, it's just kind of a family thing."

"Not anymore." Ellen dropped a stack of papers on the bar in front of us. Our eyes widened, "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

Sam slowly nodded, "Yeah, we think so."

Dean shot his brother a dark look, "Sam..."

"Why?" She asked.

"None of your business." Dean growled out.

"You mind your tongue with me, boy. This isn't just your war, this _is_ war." Ellen pointed her finger at him threateningly, "Now, something big and bad's coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards." She looked to each of us, "Now, at best all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here."

"There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me, and Sam." I spoke finally. "And um ... we all have some kind of ability—except mine's different from theirs."

Ellen's brows furrowed at me, "Ability?" Dean rolled his eyes, uncomfortable, no doubt.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions." He explained with a shrug, "I don't know, it's, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?" She questioned.

"We don't really know for sure." I said.

"These people out there, these psychics - they dangerous?"

Dean shook his head slowly, "No. Not all of them."

"But some are." Sam added, "Some are very dangerous."

Ellen nodded, "Okay, how many of them are we looking at?"

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far." I said, "They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday."

"That's not true." Sam chimed in.

Dean and I frowned, "What?"

"Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is—I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary." Sam explained. I fully twisted in my stool to look at him with a stern face.

"Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down."

"And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?" Dean mused in realization.

"Jo honey?" Ellen called out.

"Yeah?" She called back.

"You'd better break out the whiskey instead." Ellen said, holding her gaze on me, "Abigail, your abilities."

"Mine aren't like Sam's or these other kids'." I told her, "It's different—I'm surprised my mom and dad didn't say anythin' to you about it."

Ellen shook her head, "This is news to me."

I swallowed, "_O_kay," I muttered, "I can see supernatural bein's, meanin' that whatever we're huntin' I can see it's true form. If we're at a hospital, then I can see spirits and reapers runnin' around—creepy really." Dean and Sam stared at me, taken aback. They didn't know about that, "But it's half-assed. Sometimes it'll work and sometimes it won't until the last minute." I turned my eyes to the wooden bar, tapping my index finger, "I can also step into a room or touch an object—it's like steppin' into the past and bein' able to see what had happened and feel what they felt." Ellen straightened back, blinking. I debated on coming out with the newest addition, now was a perfect time. Dean and Sam were silent as I laid my cards onto the table. It was bewildering to them both that I was being so open about my abilities, since I was often really secretive.

I reached forward for my beer, took the last sip of it and set it down, "And uh, I got a, uh…" I closed my eyes, feeling Dean's eyes on me, "I got a new ability."

"What?" Sam breathed out, "When?"

"When I woke up from that coma," I answered.

"You mean to tell me that you've had this-this new ability and—" Dean scoffed, "It fuckin' figures." He muttered.

"If you're thinkin' I told Sam, I didn't." I bit out, "I've told _no one_."

His eyes met mine, "What is it then? What can you do?"

"Whatever emotion you're experiencin', I know it, I feel it, and sometimes, I act on it." I replied. This was harder than I imagined, "Like right now? You're pissed, of course with you, you're always pissed about somethin'." Dean simply rolled his eyes, "Sammy's stunned, a little hurt that I didn't say anythin', and Ellen is…more or less bewildered."

"Bewildered is only scratching the surface," She said.

"So…you're like some kind of empath?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "I s'pose. I've dealt with it since I've been awake…" I shook my head, scrunching my face into a distasteful expression, "It's hard, y'know? Dealin' with everyone's emotions; not knowin' which is your own." Dean just looked like he'd been violated in some way. Wordlessly, he shook his head, stood up with his beer in tow and walked out of the establishment.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam called out, ready to go after him. I held my hand out, signaling him to stop, "We gotta get him back in here."

I glanced to Ellen, who held a knowing gaze, "I got it, Sammy." Walking out after him, I had to start thinking back to when we started fighting. The entire time we were, I was acting upon Dean's emotions, not my own, or at least, half-assed mine. Thinking back to mine and Ellen's talk the other day, she was right; what I did to Dean was probably one of the worst things I could have done to him. I pushed him away when he was trying to comfort me back at the barn. I ran away like a coward, which I told him, no, _promised_ him many years back that I wouldn't do. I saw Dean near the Impala, back turned towards me.

_Just tell him_, I encouraged myself, _he may not forgive you, but you gotta do it. For Megan_. As I got close to him, I stood a few feet away, not looking at him. I already knew what he was feeling. Everything from the past few days were finally bubbling up towards the surface. I felt my chest tighten and my stomach churn when I saw Dean avoiding eye contact and staring down at his drink.

I let out a deep breath, "Dean...this last case had me thinkin'…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I did to you at the motel that night. I'm-I'm sorry about everythin' that had happened back at Charlie's…back at the barn…" Dean was still looking down at his glass. "If it makes you feel better… you can stop doin' whatever this is." I gestured between us, "Just don't worry about us, and if somethin' happens to me, don't breathe for me."

Dean looked up from his bottle in a deadly glare. "How the hell can you tell me to do that?" He snarled.

"Dean, I have treated you like shit, and after what I did to you at Kara and Charlie's, I...I just feel like you don't need to do anythin' like that."

"You don't get it, do you?" he stated. "Abs, I care about you. I was afraid I was going to _lose_ you back at that motel. I just can't have Megan lose you either." His hand ran down his face roughly, shaking his head as he looked over at me, "I don't want to explain to her that her mother died before she got to know her. I just can't watch you go down again."

"Dean, you're right. I was very wrong." I confessed, mentally cringing over the fact that my voice was beginning to waver under my emotions, "I just feel so weak knowin' that I brought a child into this fucked up world, and I couldn't protect her when she came. I feel like I failed her, and mostly you and Sam."

"That's not true."

"Dean, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense."

"Stop with the bullshit, Abigail!" He shouted, "I need you! I need you to see that I need you! _Please_." I saw that look in his eyes, and it was of pure fear and love mixed into one. I debated what to do right now. I lowered my eyes to the ground in front of us, hearing him let out a sigh, "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me…" He muttered, "Abigail, I didn't cross half of the U.S. to drag your ass back up here for a tea party."

"I kinda had that figured out after I got shot," I quipped, feeling my chest clench at the stab of guilt that went through him. "Dean, look…if you're serious about us fixin' things, then we need to level and get things clear."

"Shoot."

"Us talkin'." I said simply, "It doesn't matter what it's about, if somethin' is botherin' you and me of course, we gotta spill. This not talkin' to us is what got us here in the first place." I met his gaze, seeing him nod, "I don't care what it is. If you're knee is twingin' from a hunt, you tell me. Same with me, I'll tell you; like it's always been before everythin' went to hell."

"Alright," He said, "I can do that." I made a few other points, each of which he agreed upon. Dean then took a breath, turning his head slightly to look at me, "What you said back at the barn… that was unacceptable. Granted, I didn't need to say what I said about you and Sam." I hung my head, averting his gaze after hearing him set the glass bottle down, "We don't need to be dragging Sam into every argument we have, and yes, I know I'm the one who generally brings him into it." I looked at him with an arched brow, he rolled his eyes at me, "And yes, I _might_ be a little jealous of the relationship you two have."

"So you are jealous." I stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

"No, I said I _might_ be." He told me, "There's a difference."

It was my turn to roll my eyes at him, "No, there isn't."

"Let's just agree to disagree." I smirked at him, sensing that he was trying to be a tease.

"Deal. Also, I have a proposition."

"Oh God, what?" He groaned out. I shoved him playfully, earning a playful smile in response from him.

"We start from the bottom and work our way up." I stated, "Slow build. Brick by brick. Meanin', no shortcuts at all."

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered everything, then nodded, "Okay."

"You know this means we don't have sex until we're both ready." I stated.

He nodded with a smirk, "I know. The girls of B.A.B have my back." I snorted out laughing with him joining in shortly after. I leaned over and pressed my lips against his with a smile. He pulled away a hair, grinning back at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What?" I asked a little breathless.

"You know, I was thinkin'…your new ability," He started, making his grin widen further with a suggestive waggle of his brows, "Since you can feel everything and act on it… just makes me curious you know?"

"What're you gettin' at, Dean?"

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><p>A rough sound erupted from Dean as we laid buck naked in the back of the Impala, our clothes strewn about haphazardly throughout the front seat and back floorboards, entangled amongst our limbs. Palming a breast, then the other, our breaths grew ragged as we pressed on. Let me tell you something, this <em>empathy<em> ability might have its downs, but sweet lord did it have its ups. Everything was multiplied tenfold, and I could hardly breathe from under the weight of it. Feeling Dean drag his hot mouth across my skin, I could only let out high-pitched gasps, which seemed to have urged him on into a spiraling tornado as he started to buck his hips against mine with increasing force behind each one.

Letting loose of my breasts, Dean reached up to entangle his hand in my hair, pulling it as lowered his mouth to where my neck and shoulder met. My arms wound around him, dragging my nails along his back with each thrust, "_Dean_…" I managed to gasp out when the last thrust struck the bottom. Then it became exaggerated, leaving me gasping out, digging my nails into his back until he halted altogether.

Dean let out a shuddering breath that made me concerned. His eyes were wide with fear, only for me to take his face in my hands, "Dean, I'm right here." I said quickly, lifting up to kiss him on the lips, "I'm right here, babe." That fearful look left, being replaced with a softer expression. He swallowed loudly, nodding as his lips then crashed back down onto mine. With another punctuated thrust, I gasped out, only to hear him mutter 'breathe'. I didn't question it because the quicker those domineering movements became, the higher he sent me into cloud nine. Just as we fell from there, he stilled with a groan, pulling me closer against him with his forehead pressed against mine.

"You have no idea…" He managed to say in between breaths before he buried his face in the crook of my neck, running a hand along my leg that was wrapped around his waist, "how much I've missed this."

Running my fingers through his hair tenderly, I hummed, "I think I do."

Lifting his head, he stared down at me with a salacious grin, "So…"

"So much for slow build," I said, eliciting a chuckle from him as he kissed me again.

"Next time, slow build." He promised.

"Definitely." I amended with a grin, "I'm pretty sure Sam came out here."

Dean raised up on his elbows with an amused smile, "Oh?"

I thought for a second, "Yeah, he definitely was."

Dean grinned, "Bet he caught a show he didn't need to watch."

"He saw more than enough, like that perky ass of yours." I teased, running my left hand over the top of his buttocks.

"You like it and you know it," He retorted.

"That I do," I hummed with a grin. Getting dressed and walking back into the roadhouse, Ellen was behind the bar cleaning glasses and looked up. Her brows rose with a knowing smirk that made Dean shuffle uncomfortably.

"Where's Sam?" He asked.

"In the back, washing his eyes out." She replied. We took our seats seeing her start to chuckle, "Must've seen something traumatizing."

We glanced at each other with smug grins, "Yeah, must've." Dean replied.

"Ya'll get everything sorted out?"

Dean took my hand in his from under the bar, "You could say that."

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><p><strong>So, we're finally here on <em>Simon Said,<em>**** and like I promised, it had a happy ending despite our little Megan's absence! I promise there will be a chapter that will have a happy ending with her included, I'll even pinky-swear it! I do apologize that it took this long to have it out, but life has been a b-word to me as of late. I can't promise that I will be able to work on _No Exit_ much next week due to implications coming up, but I'll have it out as soon as I can! (:**

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><p><strong>I'd love to thank <em>Ladysunshine6<em> for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things like writing their argument before their big scene! ****I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. **

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!**

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><p><strong>The song for this chapter: <em>Can't You See?<em> by The Marshall Tucker Band.**

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><p><strong>grapejuice101- Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter than the last! (:<strong>

**SassyGrl23- Awe, I'm sorry! I hope this made up for it! **

**Guest- Thank you!**

**angelicedg- I have a defibrillator nearby if you ever need it! haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Ugh! I know right? Hopefully this chapter made up for everything and met your expectations!**

**giddyfan- Ugh! I know it! But as I promised, this chapter made up for it with a good ending. (:**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! And I know! Jensen is simply perfection! haha. **


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